


Bound

by Lumeriel



Series: Beautiful sinners [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incest, M/M, Not always consensual sex, POV First Person, Quenya Names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 33,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Lumeriel
Summary: Today people say that they were joined by a deep friendship in Valinor; but sometimes, Fingon thought he did not get far enough





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real attempt with these two, so all opinions and suggestions are welcome.

I love my father. That's the first thing you have to know about me. It is the first thing that has to be said. I love my father. My first memories are of him telling me stories or singing ... no one but me knows that my father sings, and he does it great. My father had a beautiful baritone voice and could modulate it at pleasure. I think for a while I thought that that man with a shifting voice and shining eyes was the only person in the world, he was my world. Then I met my mother. Let's see: I also love my mother. She is beautiful, and sweet, and smart, and brave ... and loved my father with madness; but my love for her was always less ... no, it was more temperate. Years later, when she got pregnant again, I knew that,actually, my mother had been very weak after my birth and that's why my father had taken care of me. Also for that reason, my first years were spent in Valimar, among the Vanyars and not among our people.  
I was coming out of childhood, with a brother on my back and a sister on the way when my parents decided to return to Tirion. But before we get to that part, we should do a bit of history. Eh ... where to start? For the beginning, I suppose. Well, not _the beginning_ , with Ilúvatar and the Ainur singing the world, and Melkor trying to go at his own pace, and everything becoming a crap even before it started ... rather, the beginning of this story would be with Míriel Þerindë deciding to leave to Mandos and leaving Finwë and his son to their own fate. "Do not blame me for what might happen" ... Funny girl. As if she did not know at that moment the time bomb that had thrown into the world in the form of the most beautiful of the elves. Allow me to introduce you to my uncle - half uncle, according to him although I never managed to make up my mind to be a family of only half of him: the lower half or the upper half, please? - Curufinwë Finwion, better known as Spirit of Fire, Fayánaro ... Fëanáro ... Fëanor, according to the archives written in Sindarinwa although the real translation should have been Faenar. Probably the fault of the bad translation was Celegorm’s and his habit of biting words. Anyway, the beginning of my story is in the decision of Míriel the Embroiderer and in Finwë’s suffering. The songs sing that my grandfather, the venerable Noldóran, suffered for many years visiting Míriel's body in Lórien ... until one day, he saw Indis bathed in the light of Laurelin and saw in her eyes the love that until then had remained hidden . It's amazing how bards invent things: ask Maglor. If you can find him, of course. I mean, Finwë did remain a widower for many years; but in fact, he was the first to fall in love with Indis. If you do not know my grandmother, you cannot understand what I'm saying ... You just have to see that among elves that are called "the Beautiful People", my grandmother is called Indis the Fair ... and believe me, _she is_. My paternal grandmother is the kind of female I would have loved madly. She's beautiful - that's clear, isn’t it? -, proud, intelligent, sweet, full of vitality ... Everyone says that Galadriel looks like her ... eh ... nope. Galadriel is ... Well, I love my cousin, we even flirted a little when I was a young adult and she was starting to follow Irissë; but Galadriel always had something in her ... manly. Well, her amilessë is Nerwen: maiden man. Actually, it was Findaráto who inherited the beauty of Indis. My cousin does have that ... **steel softness** that none of the children of Indis inherited: Findis is an ice statue, Lalwen is crazy - she's my favorite aunt, but she's crazy; in many ways - Finarfin ... Finarfin is the popular version of Ingwë and my father ... my father had too many masks to define his character. Indis loved my father. Few know it; but my father was her favorite, because he looked like his father and because he was the only one who made Fëanor absolutely crazy. Well ... Fëanor was always crazy: my father only accentuated it.  
The fact is that Finwë and Indis got married. Whoever has an interest in documenting about the long discussion and voting, and blah blah ... see the case files, please. But everyone ignores that Indis was already pregnant when they celebrated the official ceremony, and that Ingwë had forced his niece to marry so she would not dishonor the family. Indis had no interest in becoming a queen and carrying the addition of an unbearable stepchild. Of course she loved my grandfather, only that marriage did not do her anything funny. For Fëanor's tranquility, the first child of the couple was a girl, apparently as Vanya as her mother. However, a few years later, Indis announced her second pregnancy.  
Maestro Rúmil says that my grandmother stopped in the middle of the court and announced that she was expecting a son. Two days later, Fëanor married Mathan's daughter. I don’t have many references to my father's childhood and youth. I know he was an exemplary student, an athlete and that he engaged with my mother the day after he came of age. The engagement was not for love. My mother was much older than the second son of Finwë and also, his father was one of the opponents of the existence of a king when there was already a Supreme King of all elves and a Council composed of representatives of the main Guilds. However, Mamil told me that my father was an attentive and romantic fiancé, and she was eager to meet him in privacy. It should not have gone so bad when they had three children.  
So! I spent my first years in Valimar, city of many bells. My mother loved the city of the Valar and in fact, we spent a lot of time in the company of the rulers of Aman and his servants, the Maiar. My father had excused himself from occupying rooms in the palace of Ingwë and instead we lived in a house almost on the outskirts of the city. Olórin and Morinehtar visited us often and even gave me my first writing and music lessons. My first lessons of oratory, in fact, I received from Námo himself. Our people was always close to Aulë and the Lord of Mandos; but the Guardian of the Souls showed at all times certain ... inclination towards the second son of the Noldóran. Many years later, some would say that this preference led him to sentence Fëanor without even considering a possible defense.  
I had caused two or three commotions at Ingwë’s Court when my father decided it was time to return to Tirion. Although he was comfortable in Valimar and his emotions were a mystery to everyone, I always suspected that _Atto_ was not happy in Valimar, that something was missing. I was excited for the chance to meet my famous uncle and his children. I knew my grandparents only by correspondence. Nothing to be surprised: Elves are pretty ... reserved with our emotions and in Valinor this was more remarkable because we believed that we had all eternity ahead. The fact was that I had the equivalent of about thirty years of the Sun when we traveled to Tirion. My grandfather prepared a banquet to receive us. My mother was pregnant with Irissë and Turukáno was about eighteen years old, if we continue talking in terms of Years of the Sun. At that dinner, I met my uncle and my cousins. Fëanáro had seven children and looked at my father as if he wanted the roof to fall on his head. The stories do not lie: my uncle was the most beautiful elf of Arda. Power came from him like the warmth of Laurelin's fruits. I was fascinated by him, by his words, his accent when speaking, the energy of his speech, the gestures of his hands. Fëanor was a master of oratory and would have been a great actor because of the way his exquisite features expressed his emotions ... or, better, the emotions he wanted to provoke in his audience. It was the first time a _ner_ attracted my attention in that way. However, I had no opportunity to approach my uncle and I had to content myself with the attention of my cousins. I was almost contemporary with the twins, the youngest of the children of Fëanáro; but they seemed too weird with their identical faces and their movements that seemed to reflect the other. For reasons of etiquette, I ended up sitting among my uncle's eldest sons. Time to correct my impressions: Fëanáro could be the most beautiful elf of Arda; but Nelyafinwë was the most perfect creature in the universe. I'm sure I was speechless when I looked up at those spectacular copper-colored curls. And his eyes ... his eyes were almonds of living silver, slightly mottled green when he smiled. Nelyafinwë exuded almost as much power as his father and before I knew it, I was telling him all my life about his attentive smile. That day I only remembered Canafinwë because of his voice. Somehow, by the end of the dinner, I had agreed to accompany Nelyafinwë to a gathering at the Library the next day. And, for the record, I do not hate libraries; but I can live without them.


	2. Chapter 2

None of my friends in Endor can ever imagine what a gathering in Tirion is. If we also add the fact that at that time we considered that we had all eternity ahead ... well, what to say?  
The gathering had begun with the Mixture of Lights that preceded the splendor of Telperion and for more than two hours the Masters of Lambë had been circling around terms that, in fact, were no longer used in Valinor. I, who had only come to ingratiate myself with my beautiful cousin, was about to vanish from boredom. Maitimo, however, was concentrating on the debate and, noticing it, I devoted myself to observing him. Let's make something clear: I like females. My brother prefers males and my sister is as crazy as our aunt Lalwen; but I ... I love females. Let's say that between my constant flirting with the young unmarried girls of Valimar and Turukáno's infatuation with King Ingwë's grandson, my father had found the perfect excuse to return home, despite my mother's complaints and the insistence of Námo about us staying in the city of the Valar ... Did I mention that Námo had something strange with my father? It's not that I criticize him: atto was ... he's impressive. But I'm digressing.  
The fact is that I had never been interested in a man. As I said, the first time a man deserved my attention was when I saw my uncle Fëanáro in that meal; however, it did not even cross my mind to have the same treatment with him as I would have with a female - especially because Fëanáro barely saw me and on the rare occasions when his gaze stopped on me, there was such a confusion of emotions in his eyes that I was not even aware of whether I could find one to correspond to. Nor at that moment, as I sat next to my older cousin in one of the uncomfortable chairs of Tirion's library, I thought that I might have some… erotic intimacy with him; however, my eyes soon turned to his figure: it was a much more interesting sight than those wiry-faced and gray robes’ elves. Maitimo also wore soberly, although in his case, the dark green tone of his clothes only served to highlight the coppery tone of the hair that was combed in a network of fine braids, which kept the curls collected at the top of his head, while the loose hair descended to the waist. For single jewels he wore a gold ring on each ear and a ring of emeralds on the right hand. As a detail, he wore a pin with the eight-pointed star of his father closing the tunic under the neck. My aunt Nerdanel had chosen his name with exquisite precision: Maitimo surpassed my father in stature and, like him, his limbs had a perfect balance, making that be so tall ... looked correct. On the other hand, while my father was muscular and broad-shouldered, even a little rough for his image as a politician, Maitimo was pure elegance and grace.  
From his exquisite features, my eyes descended to the long fingers that rested on his knees and I remember wondering what it would be like to feel those fingers on one's body. Would my cousin have a lover? The females of Tirion and Alqualondë would be chasing him like moths in the light. At that moment of my thoughts, Maitimo let out a kind of grunt of protest that curled his full lips, showing a flash of denture and an instant later, he was standing, refuting the criteria of one of the Masters.  
Don’t ask me what the hell Maitimo said in his argument. I heard his voice, not his words. I listened to the fire, the passion with which he defended his opinion, the spell he spilled over others to the point that in the middle of his speech half the listeners nodded enthusiastically. When he finished speaking, Maitimo sat among the applause of those present and as if he remembered my presence then, he turned to look at me. His eyes shone like the flowers of Telperion and upon perceiving my daze, his cheeks were covered in blush. Then I knew it: Maitimo would always be for me the epitome of beauty.  
After the gathering, we returned to the palace walking. My cousin lived with our grandfather because of his position in the Court, representing his father and as long as the construction of our house was not finished, we would also live there. Maitimo accompanied me to the door of my room and stopped there, with his hands in the pockets of his trousers under the skirts of his tunic.  
\- You're here, cousin - he announced, smiling. I raised an eyebrow, disgusted: I had the impression that he considered me a child ... which would not have been misguided, since Maitimo was only two seasons younger than my father.  
\- Safe and sound -, I nodded, cutting. He looked at me as if analyzing my answer and at last, smiled softly.  
\- You survived the gathering. - I understood that he had noticed my boredom and I hastened to say:  
\- It was fine. Especially your intervention...  
\- But you are more of outdoor activities -, he concluded for me -. I would not have thought: I understand that you received lessons from Mandos in person.  
\- It could be said - I shrugged -. You don’t really know the Vala, judging from your assumption. Námo can turn the most insignificant theme into a street brawl ... and the most interesting topic in a psychological torture.  
\- Like your father.  
\- Like my father -, I nodded -. Something that I understand, he learned from yours.  
Maitimo erupted in laughter at my reply and the sound rumbled inside me.  
\- Touched - he capitulated. - Since you have been so polite as not to run during the evening, I will allow you to choose our next excursion.  
\- Will we go wherever I want? - I hesitated: my aunt had warned me about the tricks of the Fëanarion.  
\- Wherever you want, Findekáno.  
\- All right. I'll think about it and then I'll tell you. Rest well, Maitimo.  
\- You can call me _Russandol_ -, he offered almost ... magnanimous. - It's what they call me at home.  
\- It's okay. Rest ... _Russo_.  
He watched me for a few minutes, suddenly serious, before nodding.  
-Rest, Findekáno. - He whispered and turned on his heels to walk away in long strides.  
Six days later, I surprised my cousin at the exit of the Council, inviting him to show me the caves where, people said, his father discovered his first mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lúnelindë --- q: blue song.

Maitimo proved to be as good in physical activities as in intellectual ones. Less energetic than I, he was, however, tireless. He could walk entire leagues before sitting down to rest and although he no longer climbed trees, he was an expert climber and an accomplished hunter. We spent whole days together, as long as their duties in the court allowed it and in all that time, I asked myself more than once why I never heard about a romantic adventure that included my handsome cousin. I, on the other hand, had caused more than one problem since my arrival and had won a long paternal talk. It was not that my father intended to limit my character; but he did worry greatly that we behave as befits royalty. My father had very specific ideas about how a ruler should be and act. An example: a ruler must be an example for his subjects; he must practice all the ethics he expects from them and his followers should never see him as someone who is arrogant, who feels he has the right to take whatever he wants. His textual words, which I had been hearing since the earliest childhood and then repeated so much throughout his life that I came to think he had gone mad.  
Maitimo never gave me a moralistic talk; but every time a small uproar was made by my flirtations, my cousin left me and spent several days "very busy with his duties". One day - after a particularly resounding affair with the daughter of one of my father's officers - I hid myself in Maitimo's apartments to await his return from the Council. It was two days since my cousin retired in the middle of the evening, immediately after a servant handed me a note from Lúnelindë, the girl in question. I had not seen him after that; but the servants did not hesitate to let me pass, since my presence in my cousin's rooms was quite frequent. I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I opened my eyes, the light of Telperion filtered through the drawn curtains and I was lying on Maitimo's bed. Someone had stripped and untangled my braids. When I turned to examine the room, I discovered my cousin asleep next to me. He had evidently returned so exhausted from the Council session that he preferred to sleep beside me than to wake me up. Unlike me, he wore a change of light clothes that contoured his figure almost ... seductive. Copper curls spilled over the pillow and a loop crossed his cheek to touch the corner of his mouth ajar. Maitimo’s beauty hit me so hard that my stomach twisted and my sex vibrated against the tight velvet pants. I cursed under my breath and moved to get up; but then Maitimo stretched slightly and the shirt went up to show the pale and smooth skin of the abdomen. My eyes stayed on that fragment of flesh and my mouth dried. My cousin's torso waved too sensuously for my blood to remain impassive. With an effort I looked up and met Maitimo's gaze.  
The breath got stuck in my chest. Through the long brown lashes I perceived the mercurial shine of his eyes and felt the heat rise to my face. I knew he was aware of the effect he was having on my body and the shame stunned me. Maitimo parted his lips and, without ceasing to observe me from under the rosy eyelids, moved imperceptibly. I winced when his fingers tangled with mine; but, I did not resist as he guided my hand until I touched his skin. His belly felt warm against my palm and I lowered my eyes to follow the path that his hand forced me to draw with mine. Slowly, his fingers released mine and even though I thought the right thing would be to move away, I ... well, I have never been one to retreat before a new experience.  
I followed with my eyes the path that the tips of my fingers traced in my cousin's abdomen, drawing the marks of the tense muscles, circling the navel, delineating the loose band of pants... Maitimo's belly rippled and a moan forced me to look up.  
Fëanáro's oldest son arched backwards, his mouth ajar, letting out his breath in short gasps and the blood rising to his neck and cheeks as his body moved forward to look for my touch. Still looking at it, I pulled enough of the waistband of the piece to insert my hand. I stopped in my tracks to feel the hard sex receive me. Maitimo writhed, moaning and panting in despair, one of his hands clenched next to his face while the other clutched the sheets. I took a breath and determined, pushed the piece of cotton until my cousin's cock stood free and demanding.  
Oh heavens. For a second, I felt envious that even in this my cousin was perfect. Certainly, "well-formed". I stood up on one elbow and I settled to surround his sex with my right hand, and start a slow, steady pace. In a matter of minutes, Maitimo rammed into my grip, moaning loudly, arching like a cat, panting murmurs among which I could only make out my name. The orgasm shook my cousin like an earthquake, shots of pearly fluid soaking my fingers and his torso, his cock trembling in my hand. When at last the shudders stopped and Maitimo lay with his eyes closed, breathing heavily, I realized what had happened. Knowing the inclinations of my younger brother since he was an infant, it would be illogical to suppose that I disliked the relations between males; what really baffled me was the fact of having participated in... this. I liked Maitimo - there was no point in denying it - but it never crossed my mind that I would touch him this way or, worse, that my body was so anxious to be touched by him. After a moment, Maitimo reopened his eyes and watched me with interest that made me blush. Sitting up on the bed, he stripped off his dirty shirt and slid his pants down his long legs. My sex stirred in the restriction of my clothes when I contemplated him naked and I remember thinking that I should leave, not allow this - whatever it was - to continue. However, while I remained stuck between reason and lust, my cousin bent over me and joined his mouth to mine. It was the most delicate kiss I ever received. Maitimo's lips were soft and tempting; his tongue, a freshness that slipped into my mouth and invited me without demanding. I responded instinctively, entangling a hand in his hair, following the movement with which he brought me closer to his body.  
\- I want you - he murmured, his hoarse voice against my skin -. I've wanted you since I saw you, Finno. Let me ... let me show you what you make me feel.  
My only response was a muffled grunt as his fingers unbuttoned my clothes and pushed them to discover my chest. Maitimo descended down my throat, licking and nibbling. His mouth played on my nipples until the world turned in my head like a whirlpool and then came back down the line of my sternum until my hose stopped him. He lingered on my abdomen, running his tongue over it and planting light bites while he opened my fly and pushed my underwear off. My sex ached from the restraint and almost animal desire that overwhelmed me. My cousin's hand caressed me slowly for a moment and suddenly the universe disappeared into the warm moisture that welcomed me. I groaned and I doubled back. I'm sure I hurt him with my uncontrolled thrusts in his throat; but in that moment, nothing could matter to me outside the escalation of ecstasy in my veins, in my entrails, in my spirit. No previous experience could compare to this: my whole being burned and when finally burst, my fluids filled the mouth of Maitimo, escaping from the corner of his lips. The image finished taking me to the climax, submerging me in a sea of pleasure and darkness. I came back to myself with Maitimo's tongue moving sinuously against mine, his body close to mine and his hands exploring my hair and my hips.  
The next day, our grandfather suggested to my father that it would be good if Maitimo were my tutor: that would help to repair the distance between our families.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. I'm having BIG troubles choosing a maternal name for Fingon, since I don't think I've read it anywhere in canon, so I'm open to suggestions. Pleeeeease :(


	4. Chapter 4

By the time a Valinorean year from our arrival in Tirion was completed, Maitimo and I knew every detail of the other's body. I knew that he preferred to observe me while I undressed, that he liked to brush my hair until the waves had almost disappeared, that he loved to touch me under the table to entangle his leg around mine ... He knew that I loved to hear him speak in the debates, I was fascinated by the way his eyes flashed when he came, that I would take advantage of the first concealed corner to plant a kiss in his mouth and then escape from his grip. I guess my father noticed early on what was happening between us; but since I did not stop frequenting the company of the young girls available, he showed no signs of worrying. In all that time, however, neither of them proposed moving forward until the final delivery. I tried to converse with Turvo; but my brother only reddened and fled from me, which confirmed that despite his inclinations, my little brother had not passed the preliminaries with our cousin ... our other cousin, I mean ... Did I forget to mention that Turukáno and Carnistir were more than good friends? It was not something everyone knew; but one afternoon I caught them too close and the fingers of Carnistir were still tangled in my brother's hair, so ...  
Curiosity drove me crazy - one of my weaknesses, I admit it. I craved as much as I was afraid to discover how two males consummated the sexual act. Despite my curiosity and my well-known coquettishness, I had been quite conservative in my relationships with females, so even though I knew the basic precepts, I was as ignorant about sex as a five-year-old child. It is not well seen among our people to have intimate relationships with minors and, despite his obvious desire for me, Maitimo seemed willing to wait until my adulthood to consummate the sexual act itself. Oral sex: everyone we want. Masturbate each other or in front of each other: serve yourself. But nothing of penetration.  
Then Fëanáro retired to his house in Formenos for a few months and my cousin accompanied him during the beginning of his trip. Since we had not spoken anything about fidelity - and I certainly did not believe that ours could be considered a relationship - I resumed my friendship with Lúnelindë. So on the day of my grandmother Indis' anniversary, I was engaged in an interesting conversation with my girlfriend while we turned on the dance floor when my cousin arrived at the party so elegantly dressed that for a moment it overshadowed the honoree. My eyes were invariably behind him as Maitimo greeted the queen and presented him with a gift that certainly did not come from Fëanáro. My grandmother thanked him graciously - of all the children of Fëanáro, Maitimo and Macalaurë were the only ones acceptable, in her opinion. As soon as the demands of the protocol were over, my cousin turned to the living room and looked around the guests, thanks to his magnificent stature. Our eyes met and for a second I thought I felt his beautiful mouth twitch; but Maitimo only made an imperceptible greeting and then disappeared into the crowd. I did not see him anymore in the whole party and it was near the Mixture of Lights when I went to my rooms, after dismissing Lúnelinde with a chaste kiss on the back of her hand: for some reason, the presence of Maitimo had made feel that flirting with her was wrong.  
I stopped short when I reached my bedroom: next to the door, with arms crossed over his chest and head against the wall, was Maitimo.  
\- Are you waiting for me? - I asked. As if it was not obvious. He did not look at me.  
\- I came to think that you had gone with her.  
\- Do not be silly -, I dismissed the assumption, smiling and now he turned to observe me through the eyelashes.  
At this point of our friendship, I already knew that Maitimo used to do that when he wanted to hide the brightness of his eyes, which betrayed the emotions that agitated him. On more than one occasion he had resorted to that trick to hide his lust for me during family gatherings; but the surge of emotion that came to me was more like anger than carnal desire. Confused, I opened the door and entered my room. I began to undress without checking again if he had followed me. As soon as my tunic fell to the ground, the muffled sound of the door closing revealed that I had audience.  
When I finally turned my head over my shoulder, I saw Maitimo standing in the middle of the room, naked. His clothes were on a chair and his sex stood proud, hungry. My mouth dried immediately and a flurry of desire ran through me until it finished hardening my cock. I turned slowly and contemplated him, questioning. I took a step and he rushed to meet me.  
It was usually me who jumped on him, so his impatience filled me with joy. I laughed when his arms surrounded me, possessive and rude kisses covered my face and neck. Maitimo lifted me in his arms, forcing me to cinch his waist with my legs and he took me to the bed while kissing and biting me. He almost threw me on the mattress and was immediately on me, leaning on hands and knees to cover me with his greater height, clutching me between his muscular thighs as much as against his chest. He kissed me savagely, pressing the lower part of his body into mine so that our rigid sexes rubbed in a frantic dance. The friction and impossible heat of his skin drove me crazy. I clung to his shoulders and let my hips swing to meet his thrusts. Suddenly, he pulled away and grabbed my wrists with one of his hands, surrounded my cock with the other to caress me so hard that I recoiled in pain. However, along with the discomfort, the pleasure was built inside me and a few minutes later, my semen exploded in generous shots. I collapsed between the pillows, breathing raggedly, my head floating a thousand miles above my body. Nobody managed to get such liberation from me as Maitimo. For a few seconds I waited to feel his licks on my crotch, because my cousin loved to devour my essence. A smile curved my lips when I felt the touch of his fingers playing with the fluids; but then the contact moved down. The tips of Maitimo's fingers delineated the apex of my thigh and my pelvis, and descended between my buttocks. A gasp escaped my mouth and I opened my eyes when the pain aroused me. I raised my head to discover that two fingers penetrated me to the second phalanx. Fuck. I squeezed my eyelids, fighting the urge to free myself. I felt Maitimo's gaze on me and I knew that his fingers were not the only thing he planned to put me in that day. I forced myself to lie back on the pillows while concentrating on breathing and relaxing my muscles.  
\- Yes, my beauty -, he encouraged me while moving his fingers in small circles, massaging the narrow passage.  
Little by little, he managed to push up to the knuckles and by that time, I moved obediently in possession, enjoying the uncomfortable feeling. After a moment, he added a third finger to the scan. I stood on my heels to facilitate his advance and in that moment, Maitimo released me. The emptiness made me gasp, disappointed; but just a second later, my cousin raised one of my legs with his forearm and with the other hand he led his cock inside me. Pain made colored lights explode behind my eyes and time stopped. When I reacted, Maitimo buried his face between my shoulder and my neck to silence the guttural moans that came from his throat. His hips pushed with caution, always carrying a little more of him inside me. It was an unparalleled experience: pain and pleasure getting tangled until it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. The only thing clear in my brain was that I wanted more. I pressed my thighs against my cousin's body and moved to meet him impatiently. He moaned louder and raised his head.  
-Finno!  
\- More -, I demanded, taking command to swing on his cock -. Harder, Russo. More, please! And for the record, my cousin has never been able to deny me anything. A moment later, both of us were attacking like wild animals, my nails tearing Maitimo's pale skin, his teeth hurting my flesh with the certainty of leaving marks. It was glory. No book, no song ... no promise of the Valar could describe that moment, the ecstasy that snatched my soul and illuminated my body. Maitimo filled me like nothing ever would. When I thought I could not take it anymore, his cock hit a point inside me and the fire exploded, thrashing me. I think I have shouted his name - not Russo, as only I called him, or Russandol, as they said at home, or Maitimo, as he preferred; but Nelyafinwë, the name his father gave him and that I never used. And then I felt the essence that bound me, it got entangled in mine, throbbed in and around me: it was Maitimo. I recognized his smell, his taste, his fire ... and I lost myself in him. My last thought was that, if this was what was achieved by having sex, I declared myself a fervent practitioner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using (Astaldo) (Alkarinkwë (glorious)) Alkarinehtar - glorious warrior - as Findekáno's maternal name tentatively. I'm still open to any suggestion.

I woke up alone. Of the presence of Maitimo in my bedroom, only his scent remained floating in the air and the marks on my skin. Well, and the sting in my guts, which made it almost unbearable to sit. With an effort, I took a bath and went down to the common room.  
I found my brother there; but I did not tell him what happened and instead, I went to the stables to go out for a while. I had just reached the outskirts of the city and I already felt the need to return. I did not even analyze my sudden homey attachment: I was still exhausted, so I needed rest. And my ass thought that riding had been the worst idea of my life. I returned to the palace and before considering what I was doing, I almost ran to the Council room. I waited in the corridor, pacing from side to side impatiently. Why did I want to see my father so desperately? Yes, he and I were close so that no one was able to suspect; but this was ... ridiculous. Especially because I had never expected my father to leave the Council. If we spoke of Maitimo ... Then I understood: it was not my father I was waiting for; It was Maitimo.  
Maitimo. Maitimo. Nelyafinwë. The name rumbled inside me, it rolled in my bones and my blood ... and my body was inflamed with the possibility of seeing him. Nelyafinwë. I kept calling him so in my head, repeating his father's name - a name that I hated because I had learned it was a disdain of Fëanáro to my father - and I knew at that moment: what had happened on the eve only would happen with him.  
At the time of my discovery, the double-leaf door opened and my father came out in front of a group of representatives of the different guilds. When he saw me there, and in an evident state of agitation, my father dismissed the other Councilors and addressed me.  
\- Findekáno, what's wrong? - he asked, taking me by the arm; but I kept watching the group that left the room.  
\- And Nelya ... Maitimo? Where is Maitimo? - I demanded raggedly.  
\- He left for his mother's house early. It's Nerdanel's anniversary. Did you need to see him?  
\- He did not tell me - it was the only thing I managed to modulate while the tears came to my eyes.  
My father blinked, confused by my sudden vulnerability and put his arm around me to lead me back to my room.  
That day, my father excused himself from the work in the Council and remained by my side. He tried to make me play the harp a little; but I just lay face down on the bed, missing Nelyo's presence. I wanted to feel his hands on my body, his kisses, his skin, his warmth filling me ... I needed Nelyafinwë. I needed him.  
Several days went by when I did not leave my room and I hardly ate. My mother came to take care of me, worried, and even suggested that they must take me to the Gardens of Lórien so that I would recover from this evil that no one understood. Atto refused to take me out of the house, much less to the Gardens of Lórien. Once, I heard them arguing.  
\- We do not know what happens to him, Arakáno - said my mother. - The Valar will know how to heal it.  
\- The Valar could not heal Míriel, Anairë - replied Atar -. Why must we believe that they will be able to return the energy and joy of life to my son?  
\- You are unfair in making that comparison, Arakáno. Míriel had no will to live. - A long silence followed his statement and I imagined that my father was watching her in such a way as to silence the most daring defenders of my uncle. - Alkarinehtar wants to live. I cannot believe it is otherwise.  
\- Of course he wants; But he needs a reason to live, and neither you nor I can give it to him.  
\- Then the Valar can ...  
\- Maitimo returns today. - suddenly informed my father.  
\- And?  
\- And nothing. Nothing.  
I listened to the approaching steps and closed my eyes tightly. Nelyafinwë returned. My heart beat so hard that I thought my father would hear the palpitations as soon as he entered.  
I reacted as I felt the fingers that combed my hair, pushing them away from my forehead.  
\- Mírya -, he whispered with his lips pressed against my temple - what have you done?  
But I had not done anything. Nothing bad at least. I had only had sex. With another male. That was my cousin Enough for me to clench my jaw and keep quiet, comforting me with the promise of Nelyo's return.  
Later that day, my father returned to my room and forced me to get up and get dressed. He combed my hair in the usual braids, weaving the laces of gold that he made my seal from childhood. Somehow, he got me to look like I was going to my wedding instead of eating with my family. The only possibility of seeing my cousin again had breathed new energy into me so I followed my father to the living room where my grandfather and the rest of the family waited.  
Later, I knew that my mother, Macalaurë, my uncle Fëanáro and my grandfather Finwë were also in the room; but when we entered, I only saw the tall figure dressed in black and green drawing against the stained glass windows. The necessity to run towards him was almost painful and when Nelyafinwë turned in front of me, I saw violet shadows under his beautiful eyes ... and I knew that he had suffered the separation as much as I did. I took a hesitant step in his direction, extending a hand; but my father held me in his arms and through the fog of need and desire that stunned me, I felt the cold anger of the Great Prince Nolofinwë.  
\- Anairë, get out of here -, I heard my father said.  
\- Nolofinwë ... - my grandfather started, confused.  
\- Father, Anairë will not listen to what I have to say to your grandson.  
I noticed that my mother was leaving in a hurry, receiving the order not to let anyone enter the room. Then, my father led me to a chair and forced me to sit down. He stood with his back to me, so that his silhouette prevented me from seeing Nelyafinwë.  
\- Nelyafinwë, - my father began with an expressionless voice - did you claim my son as your mate?  
A long silence followed his question. In my mind everything began to clear up. Mate. Claim. I knew that during the wedding night, couples established a link between their fëar, a kind of claim that tied them beyond physical desire. It was one of the first things you learned when you started questioning the world. You had to be careful when it came to joining your spirit with someone else's because you could end up tied to someone you did not love. Then I understood: what had happened that day between us ... it had not been what normally happened when you had sex. Maitimo ... no Nelyafinwë had tied me to him.  
\- What are you saying, Nolofinwë? - demanded Fëanáro -. You've lost your mind? How was Nelyo going to ...?  
\- Let him answer me, Curufinwë -, my father cut him, always trying to be cordial with his half-brother -. Nelyafinwë ... Maitimo, for the friendship that once united us, for all the years that we were companions ... please, did you tie my son to you?  
\- Nolofinwë, I ...  
Nelyo's voice ignited my blood. I leapt to my feet, breathing raggedly. Tied. Tied to him for all eternity. And I did not know! He did not tell me what we were doing. He ... he had cheated on me, he had stolen my option to choose. Nelyafinwë had betrayed me. I met his gaze and saw the despair in those silver eyes. I just silently denied and I threw myself out of the room, running blindly, fleeing.


	6. Chapter 6

I ran without direction. Outside the palace. To the streets. I noticed the curious and puzzled looks because everyone in Tirion knew the eldest son of Grand Prince Nolofinwë. I ran. Far from my father, from the shame of having been deceived and of having destroyed all his hopes, his dreams for me ... Far from all those who now knew my weakness, that in my first experience had been tied forever to another. I ran away from the other that had stolen the possibility of denying me to that link.  
The light of Telperion bathed the hills when I finally stopped my crazy race and collapsed on the ground, sobbing defeated.  
\- Findekáno!  
The firm, grave voice sent waves of desire and anxiety to every nerve of my being. I jumped up, turning like a wild beast to face Nelyafinwë.  
\- What are you doing here? - I demanded, clenching my fists until I nailed my palms.  
\- Finno, you ... you ran without saying anything. I was worried. I did not know…  
\- You did not know? – I howled -. Did you not know what you were doing, Nelyafinwë? When you bound our fëar, will you tell me that you did not know what you were doing?  
\- No! – he took a step in my direction; but stopped when I backed up. - Yes. Yes, I knew what I was doing, Findekáno. I knew I was joining you for all eternity. I invoked the One as a witness while I was taking you and I wanted to hear it from you too. I did not think it would have worked. I thought that only I was suffering separation. I thought ...  
\- Liar! - I roared -. If you were aware of what would happen, you knew it had worked. You are a liar and a thief, Nelyafinwë Fëanarion.  
\- What? - he blinked, confused.  
\- You robbed me. You stole the option to live my life. You stole my life from me, Nelyafinwë!  
He was silent before my accusation. His beautiful eyes darkened to obsidian.  
\- I thought ... I thought we wanted the same - he explained in a low voice.  
\- Sex! I wanted to have sex with you! I did not want to marry you! We are cousins, by Eru! We are males!  
It was as if he suddenly understood his mistake.  
\- You do not ... You prefer nissi - he whispered, while all the color left his face -. You don't love me.  
\- Yes I love you - I replied acidly -. I love you like a good friend. You are my friend, Nel ... Maitimo. I appreciate and respect you ... and I ... I want you, yes; but not ... - I roared, desperate, trying in vain to separate my feelings from the emotions that the bond caused in me. - Tell me we can undo it.  
\- We can’t.  
\- There must be a way. This cannot be my destiny ... - I murmured, running a hand through my hair.  
\- Would it be so terrible? - I turned to look at him: Maitimo was standing a few meters away, fists clenched at his sides, his head tilted to hide his expression ... and I knew that I was causing him great pain -. Would it be so terrible to be united with me? Be my mate?  
\- Would it be so terrible to be chained and not be able to let go? - I replied, bitterly.  
He remained motionless. The gale of his emotions came almost painfully and I had to make an effort not to rush towards him and calm that suffering. Finally, Maitimo stood tall and faced me.  
\- I cannot undo what I did. I cannot free you from our bond; but I will not demand that you respect it. At least as long as you do not love me as I love you, Findekáno.  
\- You'll have to wait a long time then.  
\- You will love me. - he declared, firmly born of desperation -. You will see that I am your other half, that you were born to be by my side. I have known it from the moment I saw you; but I will wait for you to understand.  
He turned on his heel and strode away. Immediately, the understanding that he was leaving fell on me. The memory of the days locked in my room, languishing because of his touch, his smell, his taste ... returned overwhelming. I launched after him. I caught the edge of his cloak and made him turn around in front of me. Before he could formulate the question that came to his lips, I silenced him with my mouth.  
Our sex was wild and rude. I forced him to lie on his back while impaling me on his sex, half-dressed both, my fingers digging into his flesh to punish, his hands clinging to my hips with the eagerness of a hungry. I rode him furious with him for doing this to me and for not being able to resist him. However, the sensation of his essence filling me again threw me out of my hroa, floating in a world where there was only the pleasure of our fëar intertwined as one. Maitimo shouted my name when he came and for a moment, he managed to catch me in his chest to kiss me passionately.  
As soon as I regained my strength, I freed myself from him and left without looking back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nísimelindë -- q: nísime: fragrant, scented; lindë: song. (The name I chose for Curufinwë's wife.

The situation between Maitimo and I not only affected us. Relations between our parents were irreversibly damaged. I could never fully discern the relationship between my father and his half-brother. Fëanáro hated my grandmother, ignored my uncles and aunts; but he kept with my father a kind of war that sometimes seemed about to shake the world and others declined until it seemed that ... Fëanáro **loved** my father. There were times when I even thought that they ...  
My father was even more inscrutable than his half-brother. Educated to be a diplomat and with the privilege of being the Noldóran’s representative in the Council, Nolofinwë Finwion was an expert in the art of masking his emotions. I seldom saw him lose control in public and his attitude towards Fëanáro was always that of a respectful brother, although he did not hesitate to make clear his greater ability to govern our people. The _love- hate_ balance was even more remarkable among them than between Maitimo and me. For years we had seen them swing on that tightrope; but when my bond occurred, my father reacted like a female cat when her children are touched. And it's not a joke.  
Fëanáro was furious with me because I rejected his precious son ... Eh ... I admit that: he was crazy, he was a stupid idiot ... but he adored his children. He loved all seven with an obsessive passion that came to seem ... sinful. He could not stand the idea that something or someone could come between him and his children. I know first-hand that Macalaurë's marriage failed because of Fëanáro's demands on his second son, and if Nísimelindë had been stronger, he probably would have imitated his sister-in-law and his mother-in-law and left Curufinwë when she was on time.  
The fact is that my uncle made his displeasure clear to me on every occasion that was presented to him and my father did not hesitate to reply to his attitude with a sarcasm that would have provoked the envy of Melkor. Never before were the relations between them so tense, to the point that Council’s sessions became a personal duel between brothers and my grandsire had to intervene. Meanwhile, I did everything possible to get away from Maitimo, testing how much I resisted the bond before pulling me back into his arms, into his body. The most I could resist was staying in Alqualondë for two months - the worst two months of my life until that moment - before having to hurry back and let my father bring Maitimo to take care of me. My only satisfaction was that each of my tests gave me the pleasure of seeing that my jailer suffered as much as I did. His caresses and kisses gave me a relief that I detested ... because it betrayed my humiliation.  
One day, suddenly, my grandmother Indis's cousins came to visit us at Tirion.  
I think I have mentioned somewhere that I have another uncle, the sweet and conciliatory Arafinwë, later known as Finarfin in the chronicles of Middle-earth, the youngest of the children of Finwë and Indis, and as vanyarin in appearance as his mother. My respectable uncle was married shortly after his majority with the only daughter of Olwë Ciriáran, Eärwen, and from that union five children were born. Findaráto was the oldest of the Arafinwions and his father did not hesitate to bow him as much as possible to the sides of his family who did not possess Noldorin blood, to the chagrin of my father, my grandfather ... and my grandmother. Yes, the venerable Indis retained little sympathy for her august uncle Ingwë. The fact is that as soon as my grandmother's cousins announced that they wanted to meet the court of the Noldóran, my uncle Arafinwë responded by inviting them to stay with us in the palace and his idea was that one of the two would attract the attention of his first-born, who in the last times seemed too attached to Turukáno and Carnistir. The truth, my uncle did well to suspect those long philosophical discussions that the three of them kept in the private library.  
Findaráto and I corresponded to receive the guests at the gates of the city. We both dressed like the princes we were – me, in the blue and silver that identified our house; my cousin, in the green and gold that characterized his - and we rode to meet the princesses. The carriage they were traveling in stopped in front of us and when the door opened, a dazzling creature with long golden hair and eyes like sapphires emerged, who to see us flushed intensely and remained petrified with her hands clenched in her silver skirt.  
Raising an eyebrow at the unusual situation, I turned to look at Findaráto and for my amusement, I discovered my cousin in an equal state of rapture. With a grimace, I went ahead to put an end to that nonsense.  
\- Then, Amarië - demanded a voice from inside the car - do you see those princes coming or can we continue on our way to Tirion? My butt hurts here ...  
The girl who spoke appeared in the window beside Amarië and she discovered us listening about her backside. The blush covered her cheeks, highlighting the lavender color of her almond-shaped eyes and her gaze fixed on me, as if she challenged me to make a comment. ---- Princes are already here, my lady,- I said with a bow. - You can accompany us on horseback to the city; but I doubt that relieves your ... discomfort.  
The young woman narrowed her eyes and the corner of her mouth pulsed to rise.  
\- Unless you carry a very fluffy cushion under that capacious cloak, I doubt it too ... Highness. - - Save the treatment of "highness" for my father and his brothers, madam; especially for the Crown Prince.  
\- Then, how should I address you?  
\- "Sir" is fine, if you feel with formal spirit.  
\- If not? – she raised an amber-colored eyebrow.  
\- Findekáno will serve in that case, ma'am.  
\- Ah, the famous Findekáno. - She commented with a tone that made me wonder about the motive of my celebrity -. Then, when you do not feel in formal mood, you can call me "Mrs. Elenwë". And the chryselephantine statue that is blocking the ladder is my cousin Amarië, as you will imagine.  
\- Well, the chryselephantine equestrian statue is my cousin Findaráto. Normally he is more talkative ... in fact, normally he has to be silenced; but I dare to say that the sight of such beauty has dulled his brain.  
\- Findekáno! - exclaimed my cousin, finally coming out of his abstraction. Elenwë, on the other hand, smiled mischievously.  
\- I see that you have not been affected by so much beauty, Prince Findekáno.  
\- You are mistaken: to me admiration gives me to speak without restraint. My father criticizes me often.  
\- A wise man, without a doubt.  
\- That's what his name has prefixed, my lady.  
This time Elenwë laughed openly and I found myself drinking the sound of her laughter avidly.  
\- We better get going -, she finally proposed -. I want to meet your father before dinner.  
\- And rest, I suppose. After all, you will also take the food sitting and it will be a long event - I argued with feigned innocence.  
She looked at me through her long eyelashes and calmly said:  
\- Of course: my butt and I needed rest -, and pulled Amarië back inside the car.


	8. Chapter 8

Elenwë. Elenwë possessed that beauty that was crystal and steel at once, the kind of beauty I admired in my grandmother Indis, the kind of beauty that would have turned my heart upside down. For a while I forgot that I did not belong to me, just as I purposely ignored the pain that was causing with my courtship to the young Vanya. She was freshness and light. I thought that if she loved me, if I loved her ... the bond between Maitimo and I would lose strength, it would disappear. Like a bad dream.  
I forced myself to pretend that I was not the cause of Maitimo's mood swings, that it was not my fault that he jumped like a caged beast every time someone spoke to him, that it was not because of me that he was discharging his frustration by opposing everything that my father presented in the Council. The tension of the tie woke me up in the hours of rest and I could almost hear his desperate moans calling me; but I forced myself to stay away, ignoring the needs of my body. Macalaurë came to speak with me, to beg me to reconsider, to understand that I hurt both of us by pretending that there was no bond with his brother. I sent him away. After that, for a few weeks, the pressure in the bond seemed to diminish, as if Maitimo had given up and in those days, I enjoyed the company of Elenwë until I came to believe that I could be happy by her side. Not even the awareness of my father's displeasure at my attitude and the violent arguments with his half-brother - for my sake - overshadowed my happiness. However, after a few days, the bond with my cousin tensed in my body with a force unknown until then.  
I fought. I resisted it. When my body seemed about to dominate my spirit, I locked myself in my bedroom and refused to leave until the crisis passed.  
I do not know how long I had been locked when the door to my room opened and Irissë came in carrying Elenwë by the arm.  
\- You have visit, little brother - announced my sister cheerfully -. Elenwë is very concerned about your sudden illness, although I explained that you suffer from these crises. I am sure that his presence will cure you of all evil. - And before I could protest, he disappeared leaving us alone.  
Elenwë was left in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do and I ...  
She was the first to take a few steps to an armchair and arranged the cushions to make room.  
\- Irissë said you were ... weak, and I thought that was something I needed to prove for myself - she said, carefree -. Findekáno Nolofinwion weak is something to engrave in stone.  
\- I'm fine. Irissë exaggerates, as always. - I looked at the door ajar -. Did you come alone?  
\- The queen is in the studio with your mother. Irissë was supposed to be here with us; but, we do not need chaperon at this point, right? - she smiled with mischievous expression.  
\- We do not need it? - I raised an eyebrow.  
\- Nop -, she made a funny gesture with her head while standing up again and approached the bookshelf with my hunting props -. So, what are these crises of weakness? You never mentioned them.  
\- It is not a circumstance that I will mention every beautiful young maid I know -, I disregarded while looking with my eyes where to hide. I still wore the nightwear and the pulls of the tie with Maitimo were having a pretty physical effect on me.  
\- I am not any young maid that you just met, Findekáno -, Elenwë claimed and without turning to look at me, she added: - Besides, it is a detail that I must know if we are going to get married.  
For a second, the reactions of my body were in the background. Get married? Had we talked so much in those months? The commitment of Findaráto and Amarië would be announced at the Harvest Festival; but, Elenwë and me? I could not marry her ... Or could I?  
I needed to clarify things; but at that moment Elenwë seemed very interested in the feathers of my arrows and I jumped from the bed to go to her side. I took her by the shoulders and turned her in front of me.  
At that time in my life, I was still unaware of the power that the Eldar have to project our emotions on other individuals. If we propose it, we are able to use compulsions in weaker minds. I am not saying that Elenwë was weak; but trust that a Finwion will always be the strongest mind in the room ... unless there is another Finwion. My father had a powerful mind, although more subtle than his half-brother at the time of using it - while Fëanáro would drag you to do something that you would later understand that was not your decision, Nolofinwë would convince you that you wanted just the same as him - and as I said that my father had put a lot of him in me, I had a powerful mind. At that time I didn’t know what I was capable of; but the moment I fixed my eyes on Elenwë's, I realized that I had made a mistake.  
Her cheeks lit up and her breathing stirred. Through the fabric of the dress, I could perceive the heat emanating from her body and a faint moan escaped her lips half open. A part of my mind screamed that she was suffering the effects of Maitimo's claim on me; but another part hesitated, wondering if it would not be possible to overlap one link with another. Maybe, if I claimed Elenwë, my bond with Maitimo would disappear. Elenwë answered anxiously when I kissed her. Her mouth opened to my advance and her body reclined on mine. I picked her up and turned around to take her to the bed.  
At first, our movements were more awkward than passionate, my fingers entangled in the many ribbons and clasps of her vanyarin dress, her hands fluttering on my shoulders and my back. I managed to undress her and for a moment, I watched fascinated the beauty of her pearly body, molded to satisfy the most demanding tastes. My gaze recreated in her swollen breasts of anticipation, the pink nipples like fruits that asked to be tasted, the smooth belly, the triangle of honey-colored curls that concealed her sex ... I descended to kiss her lips with sweetness, her throat raised. I lingered on her breasts, biting delicately until Elenwë stirred and moaned, pleading. Then I drew a line with my tongue to her hips. I took her by the thighs and urged her to open up for me, to offer me her center. As soon as her essence touched my tongue, I lost whatever control I could get. I took it in my mouth, hungry, tearing off the most delicious moans that I ever heard in the voice of a female ... Her pleasure spilled on my lips and my sex pulsed, impatient. At that moment, the image of Maitimo appeared in my mind with all clarity. I grunted, disgusted and stood between Elenwë's legs, determined to silence that damn bond forever. Still wet and dilated by the recent orgasm, the first penetration was quite simple. Elenwë tensed slightly and her fingers twitched around my neck when the tearing of her virginity surprised both of us. I felt the slight pulsation of her pain; but in that instant, whatever sensation I was experiencing was displaced by the wave of pain - physical pain - that came to me from the very center of my spirit. I recognized the fire that roared within me; but I forced myself to ignore **him** once more and concentrated on ramming into the unctuous warmth of the female beneath me. Elenwë moved to meet me, swinging her hips in a delicious dance and soon, our bodies were like one in the escalation of ecstasy. Again I felt her mind flicker, searching for mine and a second later, the orgasm shook her with more force than the previous one. I clung to her, releasing my essence with few strokes of difference. While my body was still trembling with the spasms of pleasure, his face - _Nelyafinwë's face_ \- appeared clearly behind my closed eyelids, as irrefutable proof that there was no way to break our bond. I hid my face in Elenwe's shoulder to put out the moan of helplessness that tore at my throat. Yes, my body was satiated; but my mind, my spirit ... cried in frustration.  
\- Elenwë, it's time to leave -. Queen's voice penetrated our bubble of languor. - We must let our Findekáno ... oh.  
\- Alkarinkwë! - and that was my mother screaming.


	9. Chapter 9

Maybe I should have been intrigued by the fact that my grandmother did not scandalize or reproach me for my lack of decorum; but everything happened so fast that I barely had time to think before I found myself half-dressed sitting in my father's study.  
My mother had taken Elenwë to take a bath and then my grandmother sent for a new dress for her. While I was going to the paternal office, I listened to the plans to announce the two engagements – Findaráto’s and mine - in the Festival. The queen was exultant. I could barely understand what was happening: on one hand I was happy - I was going to marry Elenwë, damn it! - but for another ...  
\- Look at me, Findekáno.  
I raised my face to face the look of my father.  
Nolofinwë Finwion always made it clear to me that he was proud to call me "his son". Since my birth, he called me "mírya": my jewel. I was his most precious treasure. He loved my brothers; but between us it was different. We were so physically similar, so opposite in character - at least in appearance - that we could have gone through two halves of the same elf. However, in that instant, I sensed his disappointment. _My father was disappointed in me._  
\- Why? – He only demanded.  
I felt tears filling my eyes.  
\- I do not know. I did not know what I was doing. I…  
\- Do you love her? Do you love Elenwë?  
\- No! ... Yes ... Maybe. - I put my hands to my head, desperate -. I do not know! I do not know anything! I like Elenwë. But _he_ ... I can’t get him out of my mind, _from me_! It’s he who’s in my ... heart when ... when I ... - I interrupted myself with a roar of rage and returned to look at my father. - You know how it is, right?  
\- I imagine it - he admitted, with a smooth voice.  
I frowned; but I did not analyze it more: after all, my father was married to the person he loved and had never been unfaithful to her.  
\- What's going to happen now? - I asked, sadly -. What am I going to do?  
\- What do you want to do? - he asked.  
\- Hide me seems a good option.  
\- Definitely. **What do you think you should do?**  
My father's tactic had not changed in years. He never imposed a punishment on me without first analyzing what had happened. Many times, it was I who chose my penance: even if it was too light, my father let it go; but after a few days, he forced me to reflect if, being someone else, I would choose the same punishment.  
\- I have to talk to Nel ... Maitimo. - I sighed -. If he is going to find out about this, I should be the one to tell him. It's ... it's my duty, right?  
\- You also have a duty with Elenwë. Whether you marry her or not, you owe her your sincerity.  
I nodded. Sincerity. Great. I was going to have to face the girl I liked to tell her that I was bond to another male. To my cousin.  
I held my breath when my father's arms surrounded me and I immediately allowed myself to leave in his heat, forgetting for a moment everything that was not his love, his protection. I picked myself up while he sat next to me and pushed me into his lap, like when I was a kid.  
\- My little one - he whispered in my hair -. This is just a stumble, Findekáno. Everything will turn out well and you will find the happiness you deserve.  
\- I'm chained to Nelyafinwë, atto. I cannot…  
\- Ssshhh, mírya. You may discover that the chains that should bind us, sometimes free us.  
That was to say that I would come to love that bond, and I did not think it was possible. I kept silent, letting him rock me in his embrace.

A few hours later I went to Formenos, where Maitimo was secluded from the beginning of my courtship to Elenwë.  
Carnistir met me at the door.  
\- Findekáno - he said without his tone betraying what he thought about my presence there.  
\- Morifinwë -, I corresponded -. Your brother?  
He indicated the interior, without needing me to clarify what brother I was referring to. These Fëanorion were like one mind: there were no secrets between them.  
I went to the cabinet where so many times Maitimo and I hid to lose ourselves in mutual caresses, before our bond.  
At first glance, I did not see him when entering. My eyes were fixed on the large desk, reminding me that against that piece of furniture Maitimo had lain, moaning my name, the first time I gave him pleasure with my mouth. Irritated, I discarded the memories and scanned the site with my eyes to discover my cousin’s hape lying on the couch. I approached, wondering how it was possible that he was sleeping when he had not stopped torturing me with his claim all those days. For a moment, I marveled at his beauty: face flushed by the dream turned away from the light, cheek resting on a clenched fist, lips parted, curls adorning his alabaster neck ... and I knew that no one could ever equate him in my admiration. Before I could contain the impulse, I reached out and took a curl between two fingers. The silky texture sent a shock of desire all over my body and then, I was caressing that flushed cheek, drawing the line of the jaw, rubbing the lower lip. Maitimo stretched slightly and raised his eyelids. His eyes flashed when he focused me and with a quick gesture, he caught my hand to pull me to his body. Lying on top of him, settling between his firm legs, was the most natural in whole world. One of his wide hands covered my ass and the other tangled in my hair, bringing me closer to his mouth. We kiss each other desperately. To the warm anxiety of his caress, I responded with my customary rebellion, debating against his body to open his clothes and free his rigid sex. He let me do as he just kissed and bit my neck and my lips. I untied the loops of my pants and pushed them until I could position Maitimo's cock between my thighs. An animal roar died on my lips when I began to move and quickly, he was charging into my heat, moaning my name, threatening me for make him suffer, blessing me for coming to him. My penis was so hard that it hurt, as if I hadn’t found relief a few hours before, and I devoted myself to rubbing it on the burning skin of his abdomen every time I pressed against him. Maitimo roared, arching under me to lift us from the couch and his release soaked my thighs, my pants, my buttocks ... I squeezed him, causing my own bang as I bit the curve between his neck and shoulder to stifle the moan of passion. Oh Valar. It was _so different_. When I was with him, it was _perfect_. My soul and my body languished - now actually - totally satiated. I was not able to reject the arms that surrounded me possessively as his lips wandered over my face and throat.  
\- My love - he murmured in my ear -. My precious love, how much I missed you. Why are you so stubborn, my boy? Why do you resist us and make us suffer? Do not you see how much I love you?  
Yes. _Yes, I saw it! I felt it!_ And that was the worst: not being able to correspond to such a love. Everything would be much easier if I loved him in the same way. With an impatient growl, I raised my head to look him in the eye.  
\- We have to talk.  
I sensed how he tensed. His arms froze around me and I sat up, sitting on the edge of the couch, barely touching him.  
\- It's true then, - he said in a muffled voice. - What I saw in your mind ... is true. You took that Vanya.  
\- Yes, I do. - I sighed, defeated -. And my family knows it.  
\- What does that mean? Exactly.  
I massaged the back of my neck.  
\- My grandmother ... _the Queen_ thinks we should get married. She is planning to announce the engagement in the Festival.  
We remained motionless for a few minutes. Suddenly, Maitimo came out from behind me, leaping up as he fixed his clothes. He went to the door; but before reaching it, he turned in front of me as if he were going to say something. He put an open hand in my direction and opened his mouth to close it twice. My eyes were fixed on his face, appreciating the variety of emotions that demolished his perfect features in quick succession. Finally, he only uttered a moan and turned around to rest his forehead on the wooden door.  
\- Why are you doing this to me? - His voice was barely a whisper that made my skin crawl. -Why are you doing this to us, Findekáno? Why do you torture us and hurt us this way?  
\- Me? - I stood up like a fierce willing to attack -. Me, Nelyafinwë? Is it my fault now? Who created a bond between us without counting on the other? Who stole from the other the option of choosing whom to love? Who violated the rights of the other?  
\- You belong to me, Findekáno! - he roared, turning in front of me.  
\- I'm not a damn object to belong to you! I'm not a hound or a horse you can own! I'm a damn person and you should have respected me ...!  
\- You're mine!  
He was on top of me, his hands twitching in my clothes, in my hair, drawing me to his body, to his lips ... In a second, my body burned with need again.  
\- No! Enough with that! You can’t manipulate me to choose you! - I howled and with the strength of desperation, the certainty that I could not resist his compulsion, I freed myself from his hands. I stepped out of the cabinet, ignoring my unkempt clothes, the disorder in my appearance that betrayed what we did.  
\- You cannot marry that female! - Maitimo barked, chasing me -. She could never satisfy you like I do, and you know it has nothing to do with the bond! You want me. You have always wanted me and only I give you the pleasure you need.  
\- It's sex! - I turned on my heels to face him -. I can get it anywhere. In any nook in the suburbs I can get a good fuck and without so much fuss.  
His silver eyes flashed like dangerous stones. With a quick movement like lightning, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to his body.  
\- And is that what you plan to do when you're married to her? - he hissed against my mouth -. Going to whores to calm your need? How will you explain to your lovely Vanyarin wife that she is not enough? How will you tell her that you need **something** that she can never give you? How will you tell her that you need **me** to be complete?  
\- I’ll tell her that you are a thief and a traitor -, I answered him, furious, biting his lower lip until I tasted his blood. I released him, pushing him away from me. - You're right: I appreciate Elenwë too much to condemn her as you did with me. - I sensed the pain in his expression and rejoiced myself in it -. I will not marry her; but you will never have my love, Nelyafinwë Maitimo.  
I turned my back to discover my uncle in the door of the room, watching us. I ignored the tortured expression that pierced the beautiful features of Fëanáro when he looked at me and I passed him, away from my cousin. Although I knew that my escape would not take me far.


	10. Chapter 10

Elenwë did not cry when I told her I could not marry her. I saw the pain in his precious lavender eyes and I sensed the breath of her emotions; but any feeling had been swept inside me by the storm of Maitimo's suffering and now there was nothing left. I could barely feel my "partner" beating at the other end of the tie and although I must have felt relieved, that scared me. I had told him that I would never love him and I wondered if I had not been too cruel. Actually, I did love my cousin; only not in the way he wanted.  
More difficult was convincing my grandmother. Queen Indis could not believe what she was hearing when my father told her that I was already bond to someone else. Her blue eyes inspected me like daggers wanting to pierce my brain and crumble my thoughts - and in that moment I knew where my father had inherited it from. Finally, she let out a hiss, disgusted.  
\- Silly boy - she said -. That tie will be your downfall. But we have another issue of vital importance to address. Elenwë, my cousin, a relative of Ingwë Ingweron, has been deflowered by your son, Arakáno. He cannot repair his fault, and unfortunately you can’t either. What will we do about it?  
\- I have another son, mother - replied my father, unalterable.  
\- And this one is free? Or has he also been playing with what he shouldn’t and with whom he shouldn’t?  
\- Father, you can’t! - I stood up, understanding what was planned -. Turvo cannot ...!  
\- Turukáno agrees to marry Elenwë. - declared my father, without looking at me -. The engagement will be announced during the Festival and, unless another event obliges us to advance it, the wedding will be held at the end of the official time. I hope you agree to represent us before the parents of the bride, mother.  
Indis watched her favorite son for a few minutes before nodding. Then she came up to me and stroked my hair.  
\- Silly boy. Hopefully, day will come when you will remember this moment with joy.  
And there my brother and I were: me, heterosexual, linked to a man; he, homosexual, committed to a girl. Destiny is a son of b...

There was no need to advance the marriage ceremony. Turukáno and Elenwë contracted nuptials and when the time was fulfilled, she gave birth to a beautiful girl with golden hair and gray eyes: Itarildë.  
Every time I saw my niece, I thought she could have been mine. _She must have been mine_. Of course, my bond with Maitimo did not weaken. During entire seasons, he refrained from summoning me; but the tension of the bond was still there, burning and hurting. When we met again, no matter how much I wanted to resist, I went to him and dragged him to the first corner private enough to take his cock inside me without the danger of being surprised. He was right: no one else could give me what he gave me. No one else could give me that mixture of pain and pleasure, hate and love, despair and calm that my fëa longed for. But it was not love.  
For years we played that "tug-of-war", the tension of our bond complicated by the ups and downs in the relationship of our parents. After Fëanáro created the Silmarilli, the rumors accusing my uncle of wanting to completely displace his brothers grew until they became consolidated in a proposal to invalidate the second marriage of the Noldóran. I never saw my father so hurt.  
\- He cannot do this to me - said my father when we were alone in his studio -. He cannot ... get me out of this way.  
\- Father…  
He did not listen to me and left the room. I wanted to follow him, sure he was going to face his half-brother; but in the middle of the corridor I found Maitimo. My anger and humiliation in evoking the attitude and the words of the followers of Fëanáro returned with all impetus, finding in whom to overturn them.  
\- You should not be here. - I replied, turning my back, convinced that he would follow me to my bedroom.  
\- Findekáno, I had no idea what they were planning. - He defended himself. - They…  
\- Everyone knew! Your father orchestrated this farce! And he did not even have the courage to show up to face my father! His brother!  
\- My father had nothing to do with this. He takes days without leaving his workshop.  
\- Is that how he plays now? Moving the threads of his conspiracy from the shadows? Why does not he come and tell us in the face that we are bastards? - I studied him with feigned concern -. Does he know you're here? Does he know that you came to see your bastard lover? Maybe you should consider ending our bond, Prince Nelyafinwë. It would not be well seen that you should associate with low-class people, children of a whore at service of the Valar ...  
\- I do not care anything about that! – he roared, grabbing me by the clothes -. I do not care about your blood or your birth. I do not care about your name or your status. I love you, Findekáno, and I would never betray you in that way. I may have forced our bond; but when I chose it, I made it conscious that I was joining you for all eternity, and I made that decision with joy in my heart.  
For a moment, I did not know what to answer. In the midst of that madness, his words seemed the only sure, the only immutable thing. Maitimo loved me. Maitimo would always love me. Maitimo would never change. Maybe I could not love him; but at least he was my rock of salvation.  
I assaulted his mouth with wild passion, drowning any thought in the delight of his kisses. We undressed with febrile gestures and we fell together in the bed. Our hands explored and hurt, marking each other. I spread my legs and told my cousin and lover to take me without further preparation. Like every time, his possession was a glorious torture that made my spirit burn. We stayed in my bedroom all day, having sex as if the world would end in a few hours.  
It was quite advanced in the Telperion hours when I felt my father. I covered myself in a robe and left Maitimo asleep to run to see him. I found him in his study, standing at the window and for a second, I feared to call him and that, when he faced me, I could see in his face the traces of his confrontation with Fëanáro.  
\- Atto? - I called in a whisper, advancing until I was at his side. - What happened? Did you talk to ... Fëanáro?  
For a long time, I did not receive an answer. Finally, my father cocked his face and modulated, quietly:  
\- He did not ... He rejected me completely, Findekáno. He chose.  
I swallowed hard, unable to understand why this discovery caused such pain in my father. I raised a hand to rest it on his shoulder and draw him to my chest. When he turned around obediently and let himself be hugged, I noticed that he was not wearing the white gold ring he always wore. The garment had been Fëanáro's gift for my father’s coming of age. At that moment I knew that the gap between my father and his brother could never be corrected.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Mírya --- my jewel (quenya)

The motion of the followers of the Crown Prince was in nothing when my grandfather renewed his marriage vows with Indis in the presence of the entire Court and swore that he chose this union by free will. Despite this, Fëanáro demonstrated that he had not been behind the motion by expelling Tasarendil - who presented the proposal to the Council to delegitimize the children of the king's second marriage - of Formenos and from his private circle. However, the distance between him and my father remained. Maitimo and his brothers returned to Formenos to accompany their father, who seemed to have isolated himself from everyone. The rumors of my uncle's many lovers roamed the corridors of the royal palace, raising eyebrows with displeasure at Findis and Arafinwë, while my aunt Lalwen laughed mischievous every time she met her half-brother. Only my father seemed indifferent to Fëanáro's life, as if he had finally renounced any connection with him.  
Near or far, my tie with Maitimo continued the same, hidden under the guise of a friendship that defied tensions between our respective families, sometimes demanding my acceptance of my destiny and me turning against his demand, others both devouring each other until my rebellion fell asleep and his jealousy subsided. I did not keep fidelity to my partner. The number and variety of my lovers competed with that of Fëanáro, to the point that I sometimes wondered if we had not shared someone. It was then rumors began that my father had a mistress.  
The comments pointed to a Nerdanel’s apprentice. The young girl - daughter of one of my father's courtiers - was fascinated by Grand Prince Nolofinwë: all her sketches, all her statues, resembled him. The infatuation of the girl used to be a joke in our house.  
Curufinwë and Tyelkormo helped to foster the belief that the girl was my father's lover. My sister even punched her favorite cousin and left him a black eye for several days. I discussed with Maitimo the attitude of his brothers; but he just told me not to listen to those idiots. My mother did not even flinch at the situation.  
When my aunt Findis asked her why she was so calm, my mother did not look up from her sketchbook to say:  
\- That little girl is not his type. Not even dressed in gold would attract Arakano's attention, and you should know your brother better.  
But not all reacted so calmly: my uncle Arafinwë - _the eternal conservative, the mediator, the defender of family values_ \- went to Alqualondë with his whole family, to the chagrin of Artanis and Findaráto, who loved being in Tirion.  
Neither Fëanáro took it well. Can you believe it? His love affairs were in the public domain: on one occasion, a poem praising the _Crown Prince's resistance_ had been the fashionable literary work in Tirion, and he questioned the fidelity of his half-brother?! It is true that my uncle and Nerdanel had separated from before I was born; but, please! It was the height of hypocrisy. The worst of all was to see how my father did not respond to his attacks.  
On one occasion, the dispute between them during dinner at the palace was so strong that my grandfather ordered my father to leave the room.  
For a moment, we were all stunned. Fëanáro had begun; but it was my father who had to retire! I remember the hurt look my father gave the king before he sat up and bowed. My grandfather wanted to continue the dinner; but the queen threw her chair back and announced that she was retiring with her son. However, before she could get up, Fëanáro got up and left the dining room. Finwë was speechless at the empty chairs of his two sons. Indis made a wry face and pointed only to the king:  
\- Your love for Fëanáro blinds you in many ways, _Finwëya_.  
Many hours later - having left Maitimo in his bedroom after arguing, having sex and arguing again - I went to my father's old studio and as I expected, I found him there.  
My father lay on the couch, his tunic on a chair, and rested his cheek on one forearm. He seemed surprisingly young like that and once again I was aware of how much I loved my father. As I approached him, I stumbled upon an empty bottle: he rightly slept so soundly. I knelt beside him and stroked his hair, pushing them away from his forehead ... My hand froze when I saw that he was wearing the white gold ring with the sapphire, the gift of Fëanáro. I had not even noticed that before ... or was he really not using it before he left dinner?  
My father's breathing changed and he turned around to face him. He raised his eyelids slightly, barely enough to catch a glimpse of me through his eyelashes, and a smile curved his lips.  
\- _Mírya_ \- he said, voice hoarse from sleep -. What are you doing here?  
\- I expected to sleep with you - I answered, with light tone.  
\- You are already too high and wide so that the two we fit in this divan -, he declared, returning to close the eyes.  
\- Then, come to your room with me. - I proposed, taking him by the hand to force him to get up. My father laughed and fell backwards on the couch, dragging me with his weight until I locked myself in a hug.  
\- I'm not going to sleep with you, _mírya_ \- he declared mischievous -. You smell like Avar in summer festival.  
I watched him, confused by his casual tone and I was about to point out that he also smelled like Avar in summer festival! And I was not even sure what he meant by that description!  
\- Did you talk to ... Fëanáro? - I asked, understanding that only that could be the reason for his apparent happiness. His features darkened and although he continued with his eyes closed, he seemed soberly awake.  
\- He wants ... proof of my loyalty - he murmured. That was new, I thought.  
\- What proof? - I asked, frowning.  
\- One ... that I cannot give. Not now. Not yet ... although he cannot understand it.  
\- But you expect him to do it -, I concluded, with logic.  
\- I hope that we will be like before - he confessed, with a deep sigh of fatigue.  
As before. It was not a great improvement; but it would be much better than this war in which we lived day by day. 

Whatever the situation between them, his followers took the enmity to the most terrible extremes, getting to get involved in squabbles in the streets of the city. Both factions began to wear armor and carry weapons at all times.  
When it seemed that a war was about to explode in Tirion, Arafinwë returned from Alqualondë to mediate a truce.


	12. Chapter 12

Noble Finwë. The most beautiful and the wisest of heart. _Yes, of course!_. Well, I'm not going to deny him as beautiful; but Arafinwë has a unique ability to enter the tides of the popular will and make a profit. No wonder he married a teler: is not there an edain proverb that states: a troubled river, profit of fishermen? Arafinwë has always been a magnificent fisherman.  
My father, with all his experience, could not see beyond the sweet face of his younger brother. Too busy trying to control Fëanáro's temperament, he lost sight of Arafinwë. No one said that the paternal name defined the person.  
I remember the afternoon that Arafinwë convinced his two brothers to meet him as an intermediary. My father came enthusiastically, believing that he had an opportunity to fix things with his older brother. To avoid suspicion, Maitimo remained in the Court, while Macalaurë, Findárato and I accompanied our respective parents. I did not have many illusions.  
Following my father's orders, the three of us remained outside the studio where they met to find a solution to their differences and to draw up a strategy to control their respective followers. Less than half an hour later, the high voices of Fëanáro and my father forced us to run for the door.  
\- I'm just asking for proof that you are loyal to me - declared Fëanáro -. Why is it so hard for you?  
\- You know what you ask is impossible - replied my father. - You already have my word that I would never try ...  
\- Your word is no longer enough for me! Facts, Nolofinwë! I want facts!  
Even Macalaurë was disconcerted by the violence of his tone: in one final this was only because of the competition for the throne?  
\- You said you would always be by my side, - said my uncle through clenched teeth -. You said you would do everything that I demanded of you. This is what I demand, Nolofinwë: that you go before the Valar and declare that ...  
\- I will not do such a thing. You know I cannot - interrupted my father, shaking his head -. You cannot demand this just to appease your pride.  
\- It's my right! If I say “leave everything and come with me”, it's your obligation to do it ...  
\- How you got rid of those stones - replied my father, sarcastically.  
Now we look at him, surprised. What the hell had the silmarils to do with all this? And why would Fëanáro want my father to go with him? Where?  
\- That's different - his half-brother tensed.  
\- It is? I demanded a choice from you ... and you chose your stones. Now it's my time to choose ... and I choose to wait.  
\- There will be no more waiting, Nolofinwë - hissed Fëanáro, his eyes shining with anger -. It is time for you to make a decision. Whether you want it or not.  
\- No - denied Atar; but his half-brother was already walking away in long strides, without even calling Macalaurë. - Curufinwë, come back here. Curufinwë, we have not finished talking. Curufinwë!  
The anxiety in my father's tone made me go to his side to keep him from chasing his half-brother.  
\- I think our brother wants to do something ... crazy, Nolvo - my uncle Arafinwë observed innocently.  
\- What a novelty, uncle! - I grunted between my teeth.  
\- I will not let him. - declared my father, firmly -. Findekáno, prepare my horse.  
\- Where are you going?  
\- To talk to my father. It's time for someone to put a brake on ... Fëanáro's madness.

My father did not allow me to accompany him to the palace. I was in the square, waiting for his return when I perceived the tumult and heard the comments, each worse.  
"Prince Curufinwë has attacked his brother!" "Curufinwë and Nolofinwë are fighting!" "Prince Curufinwë challenged Nolofinwë to a duel!" "Prince Nolofinwë has been wounded!"  
I ran. I ran without taking care of whom I pushed on my way. I froze when I reached the edge of the circle, unable to believe my eyes. Fëanáro was covered by an armor that gleamed in the light of the Trees and for a moment, my eyes were distracted by the high red plume that crowned the helmet. But my sight descended to the thin blade that covered the distance from his hand ... _to my father's throat_.  
The words that crossed between them were later repeated by thousands of tongues, in the most dissimilar tones. When I arrived, my father just stared at his half-brother, all emotion drained from his features. Calmly, he stepped back and half turned to where my grandfather had just come running. My father made a slight bow and passed by Fëanáro in the direction of me. My gaze rested on my grandfather - whose face only betrayed disbelief - and then slid to the tall figure at his side. Maitimo met my gaze as he approached his father. I did not even want to read his expression. With firmness, I closed my mind to any attempt at rapprochement on his part. Fëanáro had done something that I would never forgive.  
I followed my father without speaking, aware that at that moment, an unknown darkness had just fallen on everyone.

When we arrived at our house, the news had preceded us. My mother and my aunt Lalwen awaited us. My sister arrived a few minutes later at full gallop, with Artanis. I remember that Lalwen ran to my father, overtaking my mother, to hold the face of her favorite brother in her hands. His gray eyes flashed in rage as he discovered the tiny cut at the base of my father's neck.   
\- I'm going to kill that asshole! - she roared.  
\- No one is going to kill anyone, Lalwen. - my father reassured her.  
\- You are bleeding, Arakáno! He tried to kill you!   
\- He did not ... Curufinwë did not try to kill me, sister. If he had wanted to do it, he would have only had to sink the sword into my throat.   
\- Do not say that, father! - screamed Irissë and for the first time I saw her pale, disheveled. - I'm going to kill my uncle too - she promised.   
\- I said no one is going to commit murder in our family - replied Atto, letting go slowly and holding his sister, he left her to go to their rooms -. Findekáno, come with me, - he ordered.   
As he passed by my mother, who did not move, he stopped for a moment and stroked her temple. She wrapped both hands around his wrist to rest her cheek on his palm and after a moment, she nodded imperceptibly before letting him go. I remember having noticed how, as soon as my father turned his back on me, Mamil collapsed in a chair, crying silently while Irissë and Artanis ran to her side.


	13. Chapter 13

This time, the Valar **did** intervene. Fëanáro was summoned to their presence, as well as numerous witnesses who told the rumors that ran between one faction and another. The inquiries showed that the words that many repeated as their own came from Melkor. Manwë and Aulë decreed that Melkor be found and taken to the Ring of Judgment to be judged for this new offense; but as much as Tulkas sought, he could not find the Vala and some claimed that a shadow had passed over the city of Teleri, away from Aman. It was then that Mandos intervened, declaring that just as the rumors were spread by Melkor, Fëanáro had undoubtedly been the one to unsheathe a weapon and threaten the life of his own brother, and such a crime could not go unpunished. Of course my grandfather tried to have justice left in his hands; but once again the Lord of Mandos alleged that the Noldóran might not be considered impartial on this occasion.  
\- You speak of slavery. If slavery is indeed, you cannot escape; because Manwë is King of Arda and not only of Aman. And that action was against the law, whether in Aman or not. Therefore, this judgment is now dictated: for twelve years you will leave Tirion, where this threat was discussed. In that time, reflect and remember who and what you are. But at the end of that time, this matter will be settled and straightened out, if there are people who are willing to liberate you. *  
Those were the words that Námo addressed to my uncle. And of course my father announced that he would release his brother. For many years I wondered if he did it because he hoped to rescue something of the precarious understanding that once existed between them ... or if it was just a clever move, one of the many he knew how to do in the political field. Without a doubt, the attitude earned him the acceptance of the Valar; but from his half-brother he got nothing but a cold look - which was interesting when it came to my uncle, the one they called "Spirit of Fire" ...  
Immediately, my grandfather announced that he was leaving with his eldest son, to suffer exile in his company. My grandmother did not like that.

I arrived at the palace with my father, who came as soon as the king's decision was announced. From outside the studio, we clearly heard Finwë's voice.  
\- You cannot understand, Indis; it is **my son** who has been unjustly banished.  
\- It's **your son** whose life was threatened, Finwë -, she replied, harshly. - But you're right: I cannot understand ... I cannot understand how I was so blind as to love you once.  
Immediately, I perceived her footsteps approaching and I backed up, hitting my father's chest. I raised my head to see his hurt expression; but instantly, his austere features expressed nothing.  
The study door opened and Indis filled the door with his wonderful presence. Without speaking, she addressed us and embraced her son as she would have embraced her lover after a long separation.  
\- Take that crown - she whispered in my father's ear - and teach them what it is to be a king, Arakáno. **Teach him** that you are the only jewel that is worth fighting for. - She kissed my father on the forehead, taking him by the cheeks to force him to lower his head and turned in my direction, with a malicious smile -. Come with me, Findekáno: we must prepare the rooms of your father and your brothers. The Supreme King must live in the palace.  
Until today I ignore the words that father and son exchanged; but I do not think they were nice. My father, now regent of Tirion, did not come to say goodbye to the Noldóran publicly. In fact, the wisest of the Noldor, the one who guided us for thousands of years, left the palace in the hours of Telperion, in the midst of silence and followed by half a dozen servants, some of whom received direct orders from my father to accompany him. Indis did not meet him either. Only Findis appeared at the doors of Mindon Eldálieva to say farewell to her father.  
My brothers and I stayed in the palace, showing that we supported our father. My aunt Lalwen, of course, joined us in our new abode and sooner than we expected, she had even created a kind of female brotherhood that supported her favorite brother as permanent ruler of Tirion. My uncle Arafinwë returned from Alqualondë to settle in Tirion, with the aim of "supporting his brother in his labors".  
While the impending changes lasted, the bond between Maitimo and I remained strangely silent. As regent of the Noldor, my father did not use his rights and did not rush his half-brother to go into exile. However, the rumors of Fëanáro's departure came to us as if we were pending. The house in the city had been emptied and the servants had gone ahead. It was while I was in my bedroom that I experienced the pull in my soul again.

I sat up on the bed just to see the tall silhouette jump over the balcony railing and through the curtains.  
I raised an eyebrow , hiding my fun.  
\- Did not you fear meeting someone else here? - I scoffed -. I could have had company. Maitimo stopped halfway. He wore dark traveling clothes and his coppery curls were combed in tight braids. His silver gaze was on me, running almost physically and desire rolled in my blood and my bones with strength.  
\- Why did you come, Nelyafinwë? - I demanded squeezing my jaw.  
\- Twelve years -. The words escaped his pale lips as if they emerged from his same fëa -. I cannot live twelve years without you.  
Once again, the strength of his passion - his love - hit me to the point of taking my breath away. In spite of not reciprocate it, his sincerity intoxicated me and unleashed in me the most primitive instincts of our race.  
With a jump, I stood on the bed and with rude gestures, I tore off my clothes until I was totally naked before him.  
\- That's why you came, right? - I challenged him, smiling a crooked smile, while sliding his hands across my chest, descending to the belly, to the thighs. My cousin's eyes followed the path of my hands and he leaned forward like a wolf about to jump when I ignored my own erection. By now, I could clearly see the long bulge in his riding pants. I saw Maitimo take a step towards the bed and I dropped between the pillows, my legs flexed.  
\- Nude - I said, trying to keep the lust out of my voice -. You will not touch me until you get rid of all those clothes.  
\- Findekáno! – he moaned almost threatening.  
\- Naked, Nelyafinwë -, I insisted and I settled on a hip, hugging a pillow between my legs. The silk caressed my hard cock and I moved instinctively, reveling in friction. An animal snarl escaped from my cousin's throat and with febrile gestures, he struggled with his clothes while he kicked off his boots with his toes. While watching him while he undressed, I continued to ram into the softness of the cushion between my thighs and brief sounds of pleasure came out from me. The lust and desire of Maitimo filled the room, enveloped me like the smell of incense and drove me crazy. A higher moan emerged from my mouth and I arched to point ...  
\- Do not you dare! - roared Maitimo when at last he managed to kick his pants entangled with his underwear. - Do not you dare come without me, Alkarinehtar.  
\- Well, you better hurry -, I launched, laughing, throwing my head back, licking my lips as I tightened my legs.  
I barely felt the sinking of the mattress under his weight. All I knew was that his hands caught my hips to lift me and a second later, the pain cut my breath. The world turned uncontrollably in my head and the feeling of being filled - _too much_ , by Eru Ilúvatar - almost made me nauseous. Maitimo's torso stuck to my back, just enough so that his mouth rested against my ear.  
\- Valar! - he moaned, moving to fill me more -. How can you be so damn perfect? I'm going to go mad without this ... without you.  
\- Ha-have thought before ... - just barely managed to spin words full - letting-your-father- th-th-threatened mine.  
His only response was to withdraw until he almost abandoned me and plunged into me with a sudden onslaught.  
\- Bastard - I growled, showing my teeth; but it was really impossible to fight with him when he moved so exquisitely inside me, mercilessly pounding my prostate.  
Soon, my hoarse moans filled the air around us and my cousin's precious voice filled me with insults and blessings as our bodies were almost frantic. I clung to the pillow between my legs and arched until my back creaked, and the world disappeared between the lights that burst behind my eyelids. I felt my pleasure explode in tense shots and a few seconds later, the fluids of Maitimo spilled in my scorched entrails, lubricating their final attacks. I growled under my breath when he forced me to leave the pillow - whose sheath was completely ruined - and made me rest on his sweaty chest, his legs entangled with mine to keep me still while his lips roamed my neck and my right ear.  
\- Are you ready to leave? - I asked, hoarsely.  
\- Never - he admitted -. I will never be ready to leave you. I love you. I love you and you are mine.  
\- **You are mine** -, I half-smiled, pretending to possess a freedom that I knew was impossible: whether I loved him or not, Nelyafinwë's brand was in me until the end of time. I would always belong to him. As he belonged to me.  
\- Yes -, he accepted without fighting -. I'm yours, Findekáno. And one day ... one day you will understand.  
I did not reply. The orgasm, the emotions of the previous days, everything that was happening ... had drained my energies. I twisted in his arms to contemplate him. Worst of all, it was that I understood it. Or I thought I understood it.  
\- What will I understand? - I demanded quietly.  
\- How we love -, answered before cover my mouth with his anxious lips. I lost myself in his kiss for a moment. - You will come to me? You will come to see me? - he asked without leaving my mouth, his tongue playing with mine until making me wish he was in another part of me.  
\- I will not put a foot in Formenos -, I declared, blunt, clutching his disheveled hair to kiss him and bite him with ferocity. - I will not step on the elf's house that threatened my father's life.  
\- Nor I would ask you – he clarified, moving to leave behind me and placed between my legs. - I understand how you love him,- he whispered, standing on his elbows to watch me with those hallucinating eyes speckled in green, - and I'm almost jealous of Nolofinwë.  
\- I don't love my father in that way - I was horrified.  
A shadow of sadness covered the exquisite features of Maitimo.  
\- But you'll always choose him over me. - And you will always choose your father. Although you claim to love me.  
As soon as I said the words, an unusual pain settled in my chest. It was as if at that very moment I knew that the love he felt for me was inferior to the one he felt for his father, and it was ... disconcerting the sudden need to be first for my precious cousin. Confused, and refusing to analyze what that might mean, I rose to reach his lips, claiming them in a wild kiss. An instant later, we fought to dominate the other. I'm not sure how I managed to invest our positions. For a second, Maitimo watched me, alert, fitting his fingers on my hips as if he feared that I would take advantage to escape his grasp; but nothing was further from my intentions. Leaning down to kiss him, I pushed one knee between his thighs. I did not linger in romances or preparatory caresses: he would not have expected them either. With two fingers, I tried the entrance of my cousin, who let out a stifled gasp while throwing his head back. I was sure it was his first time being penetrated: I was his only lover and until that moment, he had always been the one to take me.  
When Maitimo swayed in my hand, I placed myself on my knees between his thighs and traded my fingers for my rigid cock. The first onslaught took me only halfway; but the sensation of narrowness and heat was so intense that I had to stop myself from coming at that moment. Maitimo tensed, stuck his fingers in my back and pulled me to impale himself more in thepossession. A roar erupted from my lips and I assaulted his body with rhythmic attacks, sinking more and more, feeling my fluids mingle with his warm blood. The thick scent of copper and sex flooded my nose and erased any trace of sanity. Maitimo's slender legs encircled my waist and his hands roamed my back and shoulders, caressing and scratching.  
\- Harder - he demanded, his voice hoarse betraying his need -. Harder, Finno. More, please! My only response was to please him. At another time I might torture him by imposing a slow cadence; but on that occasion, our desires were identical and my body demanded the same rudeness for which my lover was praying.  
I separated enough to take his cock in my hand and stroked it hard. Maitimo moaned my name and came, the pearly shots soaking his chest, my fingers, my torso ... I never saw more beautiful image than my cousin at that moment: his parted lips drawing my name, his throat arched like alabaster column, the curls like liviving fire spilling on the pillows, his muscles tense vibrating with ecstatic spasms ... At the last moment, I left his body and grabbed my shaft to release my orgasm on him with little caresses. Maitimo let out a faint murmur and fluttered languidly as my cum hit his face, his throat and his chest. I saw him run his tongue over his lips to taste me while his fingers played with our essences mixed on his skin. I could have run again just watching him.  
I collapsed beside him, exhausted as well as satisfied. For a few minutes, I just lay face down, recovering my breath, refusing to let the certainty of the time I would live without Maitimo sink into my heart like a dagger. I shuddered when his fingers tangled in my hair and then ran down the line of my spine.  
-Are you ready to leave? - I asked without turning around.  
\- You know the answer - he reminded me and I felt the mattress give way under his weight when he moved to place a soft kiss under my ear. - Come to me please. - he mused. When I call you, come to me, my love.  
\- You'll have to shout very loudly - I scoffed. I was surprised by his laughter warming my skin and a shiver of excitement ran through me.  
\- I know - he admitted. - But there's no problem: I'll never get tired of screaming for you.  
He kissed my shoulder and left the bed. I refused to move, to recognize the agile movements with which he dressed. When it was over, I noticed his retreat to the balcony.  
\- I love you - he said one last time and when I left escaping a snarl, he laughed softly. I raised my head and watched the empty balcony, the air of Telperion beating the silk curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * From The Silmarillion. Sorry: I read it - my favorite book, I think - in Spanish, so the translation is mine. Mistakes belong to me, never to Tolkien


	14. Chapter 14

The years of exile began.  
During the first year, no messenger traveled the leagues between Formenos and Tirion. My bond with Maitimo remained ... quiet - perhaps because in those early days, my cousin did not dare to leave his father alone. Maybe because even at that moment we thought we had all eternity ahead.

After that year, however, letters began to arrive: letters from our grandfather to his wife.  
The missives arrived at the beginning with a monthly frequency ... and with the same frequency they returned without opening. Despite the lack of response, my grandfather's letters were soon followed by notes of Tyelkormo and Atarinkë for my sister. The twins sent gifts to Artanis and Artaresto. A whole box of books bound in leather and decorated with gold arrived for Turukáno in the name of Carnistir. Macalaurë sent a flute as a gift for my niece for her anniversary and in a fit of boldness, he wrote to my father. Unlike Finwë, they all received an answer.  
The first time I met up with Maitimo was during a hunt. Too late I understood the impulse that would take me away from my cousins and ride to the foot of the hills.  
\- I felt you - confessed Maitimo while jumping of his horse.

As was my habit, I repeatedly resisted his call; but in others the need to see him, to touch him, to feel him ... was so strong that I barely managed to get the steed ready to throw me to meet him.  
And the letters kept coming. And they kept returning sealed. Except one.

I remember my grandmother's expression when her maid put the envelope next to her milk cup. Her blue eyes hardened and then, a mocking smile curved her precious mouth.  
\- This is for you, Arakáno - she declared, extending the letter to my father  
The regent was at the door of the dining room, kissing the forehead of his only granddaughter before leaving for the Council and frowned at the declaration of the queen. The maid handed him the letter and my father read his name written in italics before putting it in the inside pocket of his tunic.  
\- Is it from haru? - Itarildë asked, excited.  
\- It's about work matters, _nandelle _,- my father assured her and twisted her golden curls before leaving.__

That week, Maitimo claimed me almost daily. When I pointed out that he was leaving his _beloved father_ alone too long, he laughed and squeezing me in his arms, said:  
\- My father will have peace for a few days. Maybe everything will be fixed sooner than we expect.  
I did not have the opportunity to question his optimism. By the time I thought back to his words, I was already in my bedroom, running to get to dinner in time. 

Time passed - after all, not even in Valinor it stopped - and the Harvest Festival arrived. It was one of our most important celebrations, the time when Manwë and Varda pretended to understand something of agriculture and Yavanna got everyone's attention. In a finale, it was her party. In essence. 

By order of Manwë Súlimo, Lord of Arda, this would be the biggest party celebrated since the arrival of the Sons of Ilúvatar to Aman. It was also the chosen date for Fëanáro to be released from his guilt, if my father kept his word. And of course he was going to fulfill it. All Tirion was waiting for him to do it and our whole house was certain. It was enough to see the growing nervousness of an elf that normally seemed sculpted in diamond. 

Servants and courtiers assumed that the Regent's determination that everything was "perfect" was to show his father and half-brother that he could rule better than them. Certainly, the harvest that year was more abundant than ever and under the administration of the counselors affiliated with my father, the mines had surrendered more than usual. The aqueduct system that carried water to the most remote areas of the city had finally been built and an irrigation net had been installed in the outskirts that would excite exclamations of admiration from the Maiar themselves. Under the government of Nolofinwë, the Noldor had prospered. It is true that the best craftsmen were counted among my uncle's acolytes; but the Aulendili, the guild led by Mahtan, maintained excellent relations with the regent, oblivious to family disputes. 

I had never seen my father so excited - not even when he held his only daughter for the first time and ran out to show her halfway through, even though my sister was naked: I remember the horrified expression of my aunt Findis. 

\- You look like a teenager, Arakáno -, my mother laughed when _atto_ won a reprimand from the poor tailor in charge of his costume for the Festival.  
\- It is the most important day of my life, Anairë -, he reminded her.  
\- Its’n as if they were going to crown you High King -, growled Lalwen. - It is what Manwë should do: leave you on the throne, as you deserve and rid ourselves of the madness of Curufinwë forever.  
\- Don’t be ridiculous -, dismissed her words my father -. All this is about reconciling us, being a family, getting together ... not getting away. Is not that so, _mirya_?  
I nodded at the gleam of happiness in his eyes. The only thing I thought was that if Fëanáro dared to hurt my father again, he would need a good healer for his face.  
\- That's what you want, Nolofinwë - exclaimed my aunt, getting up and it was clear that she was furious because she never called him by his father's name -. But your brother ... **your brother** does not want peace and reconciliation. He ... he wants _everything_.  
\- Then, he can have it, Lalwen - declared my father, turning in front of her, firmly -. If that is what it takes for us to be at peace ... so that we can be united again ...  
\- I wish you were more ambitious, Arakáno -, his younger sister retorted.  
\- And I would like you to support me in this too. 

For a moment, I had the feeling that they were having a conversation in which I was not included. 

\- Stop fighting you two -, my mother intervened, approaching her husband to caress his braids -. You don’t stop moving and poor Kirëtano does not know how to get close so as not to become you a pincushion. He still has to make Alkarinehtar’s suit, do you forget? And you, Írien, stop expecting the worst of your older brother: these years will have served for Fëanáro to reflect and know what is right. Let's have faith in him.  
\- I have never had much faith in Curufinwë, Anairë - my aunt shrugged. - We have not even really been brothers.  
\- Then, have faith in me, _selerinya_ -, dad proposed softly.  
It was as if all of my aunt's displeasure was suddenly extinguished. It was something worth seeing: his blue eyes were illuminated by the youthful smile that curved her mouth.  
\- As you want, _toron_ -, she yielded -. In the end, I will always be on your side. Wherever that takes us.  
And ... have you ever had the feeling that you are witnessing a transcendental moment? Well, that simple scene provoked that certainty in me, as if my aunt Lalwen’s words - the senseless woman who never wanted to marry so as not to get away from her brother - would carry a prophecy in themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * nandelle (q): small harp.  
> * selerinya (q): my sister.  
> * toron (q): brother.  
> *Kirëtano (q): No idea: kir-cut; tano: artisan. Craftsman of the cut? It sounded fun to me.


	15. Chapter 15

The date of the Festival arrived.

We travel to Taniquetil, accompanied by the whole town. Although at first my parents shared a carriage, the regent ordered to stop and rode on horseback to travel with his subjects. It was as if we were making a second Great Journey, all approaching the Light of the Trees.  
I rode with my father and my cousins. Artanis did not stop talking during the whole trip, hanging on my arm every second and asking questions of all kinds to his _beloved_ uncle. Findaráto only thought about seeing Amarië again - the longest engagement in Eldarin history. Literally. Angaráto carried his son before him in the saddle, despite the complaints of his wife, who claimed that Artaher was too young to take such a long trip on horseback: the boy was delighted, really. Artaresto and Aikanáro went side by side, mocking the melancholy love of their older brother, who ended up making them a rather obscene gesture when we arrived at the doors of Valmar, almost in the eyes of his beautiful girlfriend.

We meet with the Vanyar. The greeting between my grandmother and the Supreme King Ingwë was quite cold for such an occasion; but then the queen squandered tenderness and courtesy with her other relatives, and the King was more than polite to my father, making him walk beside him. Of all Finwë's children, Ingwë always showed preference for my uncle Arafinwë, the closest one to his family side; but on that day, Ingwë finally recognized my father's abilities as ruler and even wished him that all the quarrels in our house were forgotten, auguring that, united, the children of Finwë would only bring more greatness to the world.

We arrived at Taniquetil.

Whatever the chroniclers say today, whatever the bards sing ... no word can describe the glorious beauty of Ilmarin, the abode of Manwë. Nothing can describe the sky always above your head, pure and clean; the colonnades always bathed by a light that does not come from this world; the perennial song of all the birds of Arda, in a perfectly orchestrated symphony; the fresh touch of the clouds in your hands; the certainty that the sovereign of the world inhabits there.

And yet, Manwë is not the most impressive of the Valar. You do not understand it: you have never seen the dark sensuality of Melkor, or the somber power of Námo, or the greatness of Ulmo. For you, Melkor is an awful legend, Námo, a mystery and Ulmo, the song of the waves; but they are much more. Next to them, Manwë is only a prince of androgynous beauty, adorned with celestial clothes and long white hair braided with feathers of eagle; he is colorless and tasteless. But he is the King.

We, the ones who lived among them for thousands of years, were not impressed by the majesty of Manwë or the cold beauty of Varda.

The Maiar met before the throne ... Well, to say "they met" is to say that they emerged from the ground, from the columns; they materialized before our eyes; they flew through the windows ... they made a real show of their entrance. When they were together, they sang a song in valarin - which fortunately was short because the valarin is one of the most annoying languages to sing, with all those zh, k and r ... a horror - and then they started singing in Quenya - thanks to Eru. We joined the song and that's how the Festival of the First Harvest began.

Once the hymn was over, Manwë stood up to invite us to celebrate. He did not speak, his pale lips opening in a smile of ice when a guest went through the circle.

Fëanáro  
Did I just say that Manwë was not the most impressive of the Valar? Actually, the Valar were not impressive: _Finwë's eldest son was impressive_.  
Later, we learned that Manwë had ordered him to attend; but that no one else came to the party, staying all in Formenos, in protest of the exile of the crown prince.

My uncle advanced to a stop before the throne of Manwë Súlimo. He did not bow, he did not salute. He remained erect. He wore no jewel - not even his precious silmarilli - and his long black hair fell unadorned to his waist, framing his sharper features. His eyes flashed as if the Imperishable Flame were actually beating in them.

Fëanáro remained motionless until another elf emerged from the circle and stopped beside him. I saw my uncle's eyes shine, his chest shudder with a deep inspiration and he turned to face my father.

It was at that moment that I realized how much they both resembled each other, in the way that their movements complemented each other and their eyes reflected those of the other.

\- Wao - Artaresto whispered next to me - it seems that they had agreed.  
\- Or as if they were two halves of a single being - added Artanis, frowning.

And it was true: where my father wore blue and silver, my uncle wore red and black; but their clothes were identical! The same cut, the same details. My father - as his brother - wore no jewelry, except for the white gold circlet with the sapphire that Fëanáro gave him at his coming of age, and that it had been the only crown he wore in those twelve years, while the Noldóran's tiara slept on velvet cushion. 

I have never stopped wondering why the chroniclers insist on pointing out that my father did not try to draw his sword: my father did not carry a sword, for Eru's sake! It was a damn reconciliation party! Why would he carry a sword, by Oromë's balls?   
My uncle was not armed either and he was the first to come forward, holding both hands to his half-brother. I had the certainty that they spoke in their minds; but my father took one of his older brother's hands - not a shake of hands like humans do, or a simple brush of fingers like when you greet a lady. My father took his brother's arm, grabbing his forearm, pulling him closer to himself and resting his other hand on his shoulder, said:  
\- As I promised, I do now. I come out in thy defense and I do not remember any offense any longer. **  
Fëanáro watched him silently and slowly, put his free hand on my father's shoulder, who spoke again:   
\- Half-brother by blood, whole brother by heart. Thou shalt lead and I shall follow. Let no complaint divide us. **  
\- I hear thee** -, finally spoke my uncle -. So be it** - and finally, a smile half-opened his mouth. 

It was as if a weight fell on my shoulders, the weight of a promise that was not what they were really saying to us, a promise that would change the world forever. But in that instant, I forced myself to discard the dark thoughts because the Light of the Trees mingled through the columns, bathing our two princes, lighting up their smiling faces, making their eyes flash ... and then the darkness fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** From The Silmarillion: As I always say, the translation is mine because I read it in Spanish. The errors are mine, never of the Master.


	16. Chapter 16

We didn’t know darkness. My parents didn’t know darkness. My uncles and aunts didn’t know darkness. My brothers and I didn’t know darkness. The gloom of the caves, the shade of the dense forests ... they were not at all the heavy shadow that descended upon us at that moment, blinding us.  
For a few eternal minutes, I did not even see my own hands. As deep as the absence of light, it was the silence.

\- What's going on? - murmured someone beside me and it took me a moment to understand that that trembling voice belonged to my cousin Artanis.  
\- The Trees ... - Findaráto mused -. What happened to Their light?

I turned and finally I was able to glimpse the features of my cousins, their golden splendor dimmed by the “no-light”. A chill ran through me: they had all the appearance of the ghosts that played the scary stories of our childhood.

\- We have to find out what is happening -, I decided and started moving through the people to go to where my father was.  
But, by then, the stupor had passed and the elves were shaking, running out of the room, running into despair. Screams of panic filled the air now and it was impossible to distinguish one terrified face from another.

\- Melkor - Manwë then announced, his silhouette illuminated by interior light.  
\- Tulkas, follow me! - ordered Oromë, always the quickest to react of the Valar.  
Eonwë transformed before our eyes, changing his ethereal party attire for a golden armor and a helmet adorned with wings.

\- Findekáno!

I turned to the voice that called me and my father's arm fell on my shoulders.

\- What do you order, sir? - It was what came out of my lips, without thinking.  
\- We must gather our people. Reassure them. We have to know what has really happened and avoid greater evils.  
\- There are enough lamps in the palace to illuminate Valinor - said my uncle, emerging behind my father, who nodded.  
\- I'll go for them - I decided -. My cousins will accompany me.  
\- Do not tell your mother and Irissë. They and Artanis will stay here, where they are protected.  
\- Good point.  
While I was walking away to locate my cousins, I heard that my father asked Fëanáro if he would go to Formenos.  
\- Maitimo is there - said my uncle, with total confidence.

Fortunately for me, it was easy to distinguish five blond elves with vanyarin stature in the middle of a sea of dark heads. Artanis was the first to see me and run to meet me. We took her to where her mother waited and the men gathered a group to travel to Tirion.

The city had been deserted by the Festival; but after the first reaction, many had returned in a hurry, hiding in their homes or running disoriented through the streets. There was no lack of who shouted that Melkor would fall on us with an army of monsters emerged from our worst nightmares: we did not even have nightmares at that time!

Thanks to the patience of Findaráto and my scarce oratorical gifts, we managed to reunite all the lost ones and we made them accompany us back to Taniquetil, illuminating our pace with the lamps that my uncle designed for the use in the mines.

Our return was received with joy. Many torches were already burning in the hands of those who remained in Valimar; but Fëanárians lamps provided a light more beneficial, less ... _bloody_.  
I learned from Erestor that the princes were in the Ring of Doom, where they were summoned by the Valar and we went there.

\- ... If the Valar force me, then I will know for sure that Melkor is like them. *

My uncle's rabid voice received me before I crossed the rock circle.

\- You have spoken -, the voice of Námo was heard, heavy like a tombstone.

I learned from the rumors that the Valar had asked Fëanáro to hand over the silmarilli to break them and use their light to revive the Trees. Yes, the Trees were dead: Melkor had destroyed them with the help of Ungoliantë, the giant spider that lived in Avathar. _Nightmare’s creatures_.

There was movement in the Ring and I saw Nienna move away in the direction of Ezellohar, her tall stature bent under the weight of her gray cloak. I arrived where my father at the same moment that the noise of a cavalcade reached us.

The horses stopped and a rider jumped down. Without addressing the Valar, the newcomer threw himself at the feet of Fëanáro.

\- Father ... my lord ... - he babbled and I recognized Macalaurë in that livid ghost with bloodstains on his face - our king ... our grandfather ... Melkor came and claimed ... Our grandsire confronted him ... the silmarilli...  
\- I do not understand a word, Canafinwë -, my uncle cut him, with a sharp voice -. Stop babbling.  
My cousin straightened on his knees and his face transformed into a marble mask.  
\- King Finwë is dead: Melkor killed him. The silmarilli have been stolen.

I will not repeat the exact words that my uncle shouted then. Only curses left his lips. Only words of pain and hate filled the air. Many recoiled in fright; but I took a step towards him: his words were what burned in my chest. The same volcano of rage and despair. 

Through a red mist I saw my father come out of his immobility to grab Fëanáro by the arm and say words of comfort, of sanity - words that spoke of a bond stronger than the one I knew until then - but my uncle shook off his hand and fled, roaring like a wounded beast, passing over the crippled Macalaurë, trampling on his madness all those who did not get away in time.  
For a moment, I hesitated to follow him. Together, we would reach Melkor and avenge Finwë. There would be nothing left of the Dark Vala when we finished with him. Yes, I used to be that naive at the time.  
\- I must go to Formenos -, my father decided at that moment, forcing me to return to me. 

Macalaurë had risen to his feet and only nodded. 

\- You must stay here. 

My grandmother Indis approached us. There were no traces of tears in her eyes. Her lips were firm when speaking with the air of a queen. _A widowed queen_. 

\- People need you - she continued, unalterable -. You are their leader, their protector and your obligation is with them.  
\- Mother, my father has been...  
\- _The King is dead_ , Arakáno. The Noldor do not need a prince crazy with pain and another whining over his father's body. The Noldor need a guide, a conductor. You have guided them for the last twelve years. You have provided stability: they expect you to tell them what to do, how to behave now.  
\- Mother ...  
\- Sorry, Arakáno; you do not have time to be _your father's son_ now. 

For a brief moment, the queen's expression softened. Her white hand rose to brush the temple of his favorite son and tears finally shone in her blue eyes. 

\- Vanima is right.

I jumped when the voice resonated beside me, as emerged from the earth itself. For once, the eldest of the Fëanturi did not hide in a somber, shapeless hood. He looked like one of our people: dark hair in tight war braids, skin unexpectedly painted red around the eyes and mouth, eyes of a deep blue. His clothes were similar to those of my father; but in black and silver and, inexplicably, a curved blade with the length of his forearm hung from his embroidered belt.  
\- My lord Námo...  
\- You are the leader of the Noldor. Your people need you in this hour of grief and it is your duty to fulfill their hopes. Tomorrow ... tomorrow you will mourn your father, Finwë Nolofinwë. 

We remain silent. Macalaurë's eyes flashed when he noticed my father; but before he could speak, my grandmother approached him. 

\- Take me with my husband, Macalaurë,- she asked softly.  
My cousin nodded and after bowing to my father and the Vala, he walked away, accompanied by the queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * From The Silmarillion


	17. Chapter 17

**Finwë Nolofinwë**.

The name used by the Vala of Destiny to refer to my father ran from mouth to mouth. Soon it seemed that it was my father who had claimed for himself the title of Noldóran. I do not deny that he felt too comfortable in the role of king: he was born for that, by Eru Ilúvatar! My father was an acceptable artisan, a good blacksmith, a conscientious engineer, a skilled linguist; but my father was - always was - a ruler.

He did not need to scream like his older brother to call for silence. He had the ability to identify the skills of others as effectively as a jeweler values a gem. He could organize a crowd as quickly as a hunter orients his hounds. And, above all, he transmitted security. In the midst of a sea of dazed, complaining, frightened people ... Nolofinwë Arakáno was the rock of salvation. Only he remained the same, offering consolation, orienting, moving among the Noldor like a father among his children. And everyone repeated the words of Námo, taking them for the will of the Valar: **Finwë Nolofinwë, High King of the Noldor**.

The name, of course, did not sit well with the followers of Fëanáro.  
With my uncle gone, his children led their people with the rest of our town and very soon, the disputes between both factions returned to burst. Atarinkë and Tyelkormo accused my father of being an usurper, Maitimo was too busy trying to control them all, Macalaurë seemed lost, Carnistir only took care of practical matters and the twins went along with the crowd.  
Then, Fëanáro reappeared.

His festive finery was shattered and dirty. He looked more like a beast than the greatest of the Noldor.  
We had returned to Tirion, and therefore, when he showed up in the city, my uncle was violating the order of the Valar, because his exile remained. But no one would have dared to challenge him: never had the fire of Míriel's son shone as fiercely as then.

Gathered in the square, we listened to his speech.

And ... the chroniclers do not err. There was fire and hate, and anger in his words; but there was _light_. There was hope. Before our eyes the images of the Waters of Awakening appeared clear, the light of the stars illuminating our path of victory. My heart was filled with hunger, with ambition: in such a vast world, I would rule my own kingdom. In the world he painted, there would be _freedom_.

My uncle claimed the crown. He appointed himself Finwë Fëanáro, High King of the Noldor and spat out words of hatred and venom against those who sought to steal his legitimate right. And the illusion died in my heart.

Before I could get away, again my uncle's voice rose.

Surely you know the history of the Oath. I could not, even if I wanted to, repeat the exact words.  
I saw my cousins clustering around their father, unsheathing their swords and repeating each of their phrases. Without hesitation. Without thinking.

_What are you doing?_

I threw to Maitimo's mind; but he did not turn in my direction, refusing to listen to me.

 _You're dragging me with you, you asshole!_. I screamed. _If you go to the eternal void, I go with you. Why would you do something like that to someone you claim to love?_  
Only then did his eyes find me; but I did not want to see him anymore, I could not. Above him, on the other side of the circle, I had seen my father ... and then I knew that he would also go where Fëanáro was ... because that had been promised before Manwë.

My father, unlike me, raised his voice, trying to appease the mood, asking for calm to reflect on: such a trip was not undertaken lightly!  
Turukáno supported him.

Atarinkë revolted against my father, accusing him of being a traitor and a coward, of wanting to seize the throne that belonged to the House of Fëanáro alone. And a second later, I found myself in the middle of the plaza, shouting at my cousin to shut up, that the Noldor did not need rabid dogs to whip them; but counselors who knew how to guide them; demanding him where he was while my father took care of our people: where had the House of Fëanáro been when his subjects needed it?

Only my father and I did not carry swords. Around us, the steel shone in the light of the torches.

My father interposed between Atarinkë and me, the tip of my cousin's straight sword touching his chest only covered by the silk tunic.  
\- Are you going to kill me, Atarinkë? - he demanded in a low voice -. Will your father's reign begin in this way?

There was a moment of expectation - the sea retreating to capsize on the shore - and Fëanáro grabbed his son by the shoulder.

Then Arafinwë intervened, calling us to sanity. He used all his sweet charm to appease us and Artaresto supported him; but it was too late: the flare ignited by Fëanáro's words would not be extinguished anymore.

We decided to leave. My father tried to converse with his brother - to put some common sense in that beautiful and hard head - but he always met with the stubbornness of Fëanáro and to the stupidity of his children.  
In part I was excited: we were going to leave that island! We would see the lands in which our ancestors saw the stars! We would defeat the Dark Enemy of the World! And our names would last in the songs until the end of Arda. 

I have charged the faults of all of us leaving Tirion. In the stories, it was because of my pleas that my father decided to follow his half-brother, because I did not want to separate from Maitimo.

Pure shit.  
The only time my cousin tried to talk to me during the preparations for the march I roared like a furious tiger and I barked him that he was a coward, a stupid bastard who stayed as nothing while his brother's psychopath threatened my father's life. I ordered him to stay away from me and keep the asshole of Atarinkë many leagues because I was going to break his teeth and cut off his hand with which he dared to hold the sword in the square. I was not very sane in those days. 

Only after leaving and when the north stretched out before us more as a threat than a possibility, did Fëanáro's head cool enough to consider a reliable course of action. For the first time, the three princes met in council and from there, came the idea of asking for boats from the teleri.  
The people of the Noldóran marched to the forefront, well ahead of us, we were many more and we carried more women and children. The march was closed by Arafinwë, although his children accompanied me at all times: especially Findaráto who could not get rid of the sadness due to Amarië's decision to stay in Valinor. My aunt Findis had also stayed; but her husband Orokáne - a vanya - marched among my father's advisers, dragging his younger brother, Laurefindë. My grandmother, the widowed queen, had retired to the Mansions of Nienna after the funerals of King Finwë. She had not tried to dissuade us. She had not come to the doors to say goodbye. Only my father had visited her hours before the departure and now my father was wearing the sword that she gave him and kept in his bag, the banner that she would embroider for him. Lalwen, on the other hand, rode beside us, proudly showing the weapons that her beloved brother gave her, wearing the colors of the House of Nolofinwë. 

Why do chroniclers not talk about our females more often? In fact, they barely talk. No one mentions the dazzling beauty of Artanis in her mare, or the proud bearing of the White Lady of the Noldor, my perfect and brave sister ... or the golden image of Elenwë riding with her husband ... or the wonder of contemplating my mother, a queen in her silvery chain mail, with the bow stitched on her back and her hair gathered in war braids ... and thousands more. Beautiful, strong, as powerful as our males. Mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, girlfriends, friends ... all queens and she-warriors who left the comfort of their homes to accompany us to the unknown; their names ignored by the bards and the chroniclers: Urundilmë, Laikammírë, Akairis, Ailinel, Carnimírie, Vardilmë... Our anonymous females, as if the Noldor had not been born from woman’s womb.  
Of course, in those moments, what worried me the least was the beauty of our females. My mind shifted in a sea of rage and anxiety. I wanted to avenge my grandfather. I wanted to reach the promised lands. I wanted...  
The whip cut my thoughts. Pain... and anger. A red tide flooding my soul. Maitimo. Maitimo was in danger.  
I did not think. Striking the loins of my horse, I threw myself forward. I did not see if they followed me. I did not see anything. The images hit me, cutting my breath: blood, bodies that collapsed, arrows whistling around me ... no, _around Maitimo_. Death.  
I unsheathed my sword as I pounced on a group of silver-haired elves. Teleri. I released slashes, blinded by anxiety, reality superimposed on the images that my cousin's mind disclosed me in his confusion. Much later, I came to understand that my father and my brother followed me. Much later, when I was stirring in a sea of corpses and moans, looking for my cousin, I could see Irissë's white clothes stained with blood - her fists clenched by the bow. I could see my mother, shielding Elenwë and Itarildë - her expression horrified at what we had done. I could see my brother holding a sword in each hand - the blood from the cut on his cheek running down his neck.  
Of that I do accuse myself: I was the one who dragged us to the Kinslaying of Alqualondë. They followed me. The people I loved the most followed me to misfortune.  
I did not see my father and an icy claw closed around my heart, drowning me.  
\- Findekáno!  
I turned to the voice and Maitimo ran to me. Our steel-covered bodies collided violently. His bloody hands tangled in my hair, unraveling the braids and his mouth ran my face, feverish.  
\- What are you doing here? – he demanded against my skin -. Are you out of your mind? If something happened to you ...  
\- Well, think about it before you throw yourself into danger and leave your mind open, idiot - I growled at him, biting his lips, furious -. I'm tied to you. If you die...  
\- We have the boats - Macalaurë announced behind us.  
\- Come - said Maitimo and dragged me with him.  
\- This was for the boats? - I frowned.  
Maitimo did not respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Urundilmë: she-friend of copper.  
> * Laikammírë: green jewel.  
> * Acairis: ancient word for bride, later replaced by indis.  
> * Ailiniel: woman of the lake.  
> * Carnimírie: she who is adorned by red jewels.  
> * Vardilmë: she-friend of Varda.  
> * Orokáne: high courage


	18. Chapter 18

  
I know where the stars glow  
(And the) sky's unclouded  
Sweet the water runs my friend  
(But) Noldor  
Blood is on your hands  
Tears unnumbered  
You will shed and dwell in pain

**Noldor (Dead Winter Reigns)** , Blind Guardian  


At first there was only confusion. What had happened? What have we done? Why the Teleri - our friends, our brothers - had turned against us? It was whispered that the Valar had ordered Olwë to stop us; but as I walked with Maitimo, I knew it didn’t happen that way. We had attacked them: we had started this. For the boats. To get ships to abandon Aman and pursue the enemy.

\- You started a war for some boats, Curufinwë!

My father's voice carried so much anger that for a second my cousins and I froze in front of the door.  
We were on the largest ship, which the Noldóran had taken as his own after the combat ended. On the side of the cabin, sitting on coils of rope, the twins watched the void with veiled eyes. Atarinkë and Tyelkormo had taken a second ship and as I learned later, my father also had one under his command, as well as Macalaurë.

\- We are at war, Nolofinwë -, Fëanáro replied -. From the moment Moringotto assaulted my house, killed my father and robbed me ...  
\- _Our father_ , Curufinwë.

Maitimo chose the moment of silence to open the door and enter.  


We meet both brothers standing in the middle of the cabin. My father's cloak was torn and blood matted his braids. In front of him, Fëanáro wore the crown and his armor was dented next to the left shoulder, where he was probably hit more than once. Neither of them seemed to be hurt and that relieved me.

\- Findekáno - my father sighed when he saw me and held out his two hands, which I hurried to take them with strength.

Meanwhile, the king interrogated his children about the number of ships that were obtained and if it was already possible to evaluate the losses. My uncle's opinion was that we should set sail immediately and again my father objected, reminding him that there were many people to embark and according to the numbers, we only had boats for half.  


\- Then, we will go by sea and the rest can follow us by land to Araman.  
\- Who exactly are "we", brother Curufinwë? - my father asked, with an icy tone.  


Fëanáro hesitated a second to face him.  


\- My people. We are better armed and have been accustomed to the use of ...  
\- Your people -. I felt the tension in my father's muscles and his anger forced me to blink, dazed. I had seen him react in many ways to his brother; but this ... - What are **your** people... _High King of the Noldor_?  
\- Nolofinwë, you would do well to measure your words and the tone you use. I'm your king.  
\- _Are you?_ Does that mean I'll have the infinite honor of sailing with you? - They stared at each other for a few seconds and I had the feeling that one of the two was trying to establish mental communication. The flash in Fëanáro's eyes told me that my father had just kicked him out of his mind. - Do you consider me part of your people? Or do you really think I'm waiting for an opportunity to wrest your crown?  
\- It's what anyone would think by your words. You do nothing but make excuses ...  
\- Because I do not want you to be killed for running blindly!  


For a brief moment, my uncle's silver eyes shone as if my father had said something very important.

Immediately, Fëanáro shook his head and returned to his stubbornness.  


\- We cannot waste time. If Moringotto takes refuge in his old fortresses, we will have no way to reach it and recover ...  
\- The silmarilli? - I could never understand why my father hated these gems so much -. It's the only thing that matters to you, right? **Your precious gems**. It does not matter what you have to sacrifice in order to recover them. You do not want to avenge our father: you want your stones back. Look what we have done for your stones, Fëanáro!  


The eyes of all stopped in my father's outstretched hands, still covered in blood. It was as if - at last - Fëanáro understood the magnitude of what happened. His eyes were fixed on the hands of his half-brother and as if an inner strength guided him, he extended his to touch my father.

But before they touched each other, my father backed away and turning his back to the king, he said in a calm voice:  
\- I'm going to organize our people so that we can go by land. The ship that is under my command, I will deliver it to Morifinwë, who right now must be doing what you should as High King. My advice ... is that you drive the ships to the canal as soon as possible and that you wait there for the rest of your town. If you want to have enough strength to face Moringotto when you reach Endorë, of course.

I followed my father out of the cabin. I think that at that moment Fëanáro decided that my father was too heavy a burden, a burden that would end up sinking him in the opinion of his subjects.

 

I refused to listen to Maitimo when he asked me to stay with him. I followed my father back to earth and after several hours we got going. Meanwhile, Fëanáro had organized the rowers and the boats left the dock to follow the coast, always in sight.  


As soon as they raised anchors, the storm unleashed.  


For hours we rode with our hearts in a fist, watching helplessly as Uinen's anger dragged people and ships to the bottom of the sea. The howls of the Maia were heard in the gloom that reigned in Aman, shaking us with bad omens. Those of us who were marching on dry land approached to try to rescue those who fell into the waters and many were dragged by the waves that rushed the coast with never seen violence. 

Much later we reached the edge of Araman. Never, on our most daring excursions, had we exceeded that limit. Before us, stretched out: on one side, the immense sea and on the other, the frozen mountains of Araman. 

We had to make a decision and my father and Arafinwë marched in search of their half-brother to hold a second Council; but before they had gone to the swan ships, the voices of our people drew attention to a point. 

The dark silhouette admitted no confusion: Námo.

Námo came to take us back to Valinor so that we could pay for the Elvish blood that still stained armor and clothes. But the Souls’ Keeper did not use his power to seize us and drag us to his fortress - as we well knew he could do -; but he pronounced words that would persecute us forever.  


_Tears unnumbered. Valinor fenced. The wrath of the Valar. The brother's betrayal of the brother and the fear of betrayal. To bad end everything that starts well. Death's shadow. Blood returned by blood. Murdered: by sword, by torment and by pain._

Against the curse of Námo rose the voice of Fëanáro, powerful, instilling new vigor in our hearts; but also making heavier the certainty of the words of the Vala, who vanished before our eyes, leaving us the sensation of laughing when doing it.  


At that time, Arafinwë decided to return and beg for Manwë's forgiveness. He did not even try to convince my father: really, that was not his idea. My father reproached him for going back against the possibility of punishing Finwë's murderer.  


\- You will not avenge our father, - my uncle replied, smiling in a way that made the ice grow in my heart. -You go for Fëanáro. You go after him.  
\- I swore to follow him. - declared my father, imperturbable.  
\- Even to hell itself, Arakáno? - Arafinwë mocked.  
\- We're already there. 

There were no more words between them. My uncle Arafinwë went in search of his children; but everyone rejected him. Angaráto and Aikanáro shouted to him that he was a coward, that they would not back down. Artanis remained silent, and Findaráto and Artaresto just wished him luck and gave him memories for their mother.  
But a new surprise awaited me when I returned to my father. 

I found my father standing in front of the ships.  
\- Have you seen Fëanáro? - I asked. - Did you tell him that Arafinwë is coming back?  
\- Your mother is saying goodbye to Irissë and Turukáno, -he informed me, his voice always calm. - She will return with Ingoldo. She considers that Eärwen needs her more than I and outside of you, nothing binds her to this company.  
\- But, but ... you! - I stammered, stunned. - You are her husband! She cannot leave you now!  
\- Strictly speaking, it's me who abandons her. I will go see our king. Say goodbye to your mother ... if you still plan to stay by my side.  
If I still...? That my father doubted my loyalty hurt me more than if I had been slapped. Many years later I was able to understand the pain that my mother's decision caused him: they had always been good friends, even more than lovers, and for her to leave him it was for him to lose the most important support he had during the years of regency. His father had been murdered, his mother had stayed in Valinor and his wife chose her friend over him. But at that moment I was just mad at her because she left us all. When my mother hugged me and asked me to take care of my brothers, I just nodded with tight lips. She argued that this company was not made for a female like her: she would only be a hindrance, a burden that would stop my father from achieving his goals. Inside, I was grateful for the first time to have a partner who would never use these excuses to leave me. 

Only a tenth of our people left with Arafinwë.  


Despite my mother's insistence, my aunt Lalwen refused to hear a word of returning, of abandoning her brother and her nephews. Unlike us, she shouted many things to her sister-in-law, accusing her of being a traitor, of being weak, of being a coward, of not deserving Arakáno as a husband. 

When my father returned many hours later, Findaráto, Turukáno and I had organized the camp. Lalwen and Artaresto had taken charge of the tents prepared for the healers: some wore the wounds of the battle in Alqualondë and others suffered from having been rescued from the waters during the storm. Aikanáro and Angaráto were in charge of the provisions while Artanis, Irissë and Elenwë had organized the females to take charge of numerous children whose parents perished at the beginning of the trip.  
Father informed us that the Noldóran had decided that we would cross the canal. It was known that it was impossible to cross the Helcaraxë and although the ships were few for so many people, we would organize ourselves so that we could take them all, even if it took several trips.  
Despite the fatigue, my father seemed much more enthusiastic than at the start of the march and I assumed that everything flowed much better between Fëanáro and him when Arafinwë was not on the third wheel. 

Many of us yielded to fatigue. Stacked in the makeshift tents, stripped of our armor at last, we fell into an uneasy sleep, full of bloody images. I was awakened by the feeling that they were pulling me with steel ropes. Instinctively, I stretched through the link to find Maitimo: I was greeted by the heat of the forge just before an iron wall blocked my way.  


I sat up, disoriented and ran out of the tent to find people running and cursing. I looked for my father and saw him standing on the shore, sunk in the water to the knee. I threw myself in his direction, believing ... what I know! At that time I thought maybe Fëanáro's madness was contagious.  


\- Atto! - I yelled, grabbing him by the shoulder. - Atto, what are you doing? What's going on? Why all...  


The words died on my lips at the sight of his eyes: fire. There was fire in his always blue eyes. 

_Fire_.  


\- The ships - he murmured after a few seconds.  


I turned to the horizon and saw what he saw: the column of fire and smoke that dyed the dark sky of blood and gold.  


_The swan ships of Alqualondë_.  


Fëanáro had not only abandoned us, but had burned the ships. The ships we had fought for, killed for ... the ships that were our only hope.  
I turned back to my father and in his eyes, I continued to see the fire. It was the last time I saw fire burn in him. 

Many hours later, the cold had penetrated my body and the salt water soaked my clothes. I had not stopped thinking about all this time: it would take months to build ships and for that, we should go back to the city. But if we returned, maybe we could not leave again. I was going to kill Maitimo. I was going to hit him so hard he would have to change his name. And Fëanáro. I did not mind starting the second killing among our people: I was going to kill Fëanáro. And all those treacherous bastards. 

\- My lord? 

My father and I turned at the same time to the elf who spoke. He was just a young man, with short hair. I recognized him as one of those we rescued from the waters: one of Fëanáro's followers, and he was there, abandoned with us. 

\- What do you want, boy? - I demanded, impatiently.  
The boy did not look at me. With sure step, approached my father and looking at him with intensity, said:  
\- What are your orders ... my king?  


It was then that I noticed the crowd gathered on the coast. My cousins were grouped in front of their people; Turukáno loaded Itarildë so that her dress did not get wet and next to him, Elenwë and Irissë seemed ready to get going. 

\- What are your orders, my king? - repeated the boy and the look of my father descended towards him.  
\- What's your name, kid? - he asked.  
\- Ektëllo, Majesty.  
\- Well, Ektëllo, gather everyone - said my father, while resting his hand on his shoulder -, we are going to cross the Helcaraxë.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I must confess: although I've been reading and rereading The Silmarillion for years, I'm really new in this world so it's only been a month since I discovered Blind Guardian's Nightfall in Middle-Earth ... and I have not stopped listening to it. I'm really delighted with Noldor (Dead Winter reigns) and with Time Stands Still (at the iron hill) - why should I be surprised?


	19. Chapter 19

There are no songs about the Helcaraxë. There are no legends, no ballads, no anecdotes. There are no funny stories or touching remembrances. There are no poems recited in sumptuous banquets or stories told in the light of the bonfire. In the Noldolantë, my cousin says only that: "Few of the deeds that the Noldor subsequently carried out surpassed in desperation or pain that desperate journey." * With more poetry, of course. And he could not have said much more because he never knew what really happened during the time we wandered in the Helcaraxë.  
You will not find books that tell our way, or censuses that list the losses. Those who decided to keep diaries only noted that "the grinding ice’s desert crossing lasted a long time". None of those who stepped on Endorë ever spoke of the Helcaraxë. It was our tacit agreement, a pact of silence that we would bear to our deaths.

The first evident thing was that the prophecy of Mandos was fulfilled: the sibling's betrayal by the sibling. In order to get rid of a potential aspiring to the throne, Fëanáro had abandoned us all. At first it was only anger and bitterness that consumed us; but as we entered the ice, we savored the danger, the cold penetrated our clothes and tore our flesh ... the anger was transformed into rage, the bitterness into hatred and the name of Fëanáro Þerindion was more cursed by our people than that of the Dark Enemy.

I guess you have no idea what the Helcaraxë looked like. Millennia have passed since the Valar brought Valinor out of the world and the ice desert that united Aman with Middle-earth disappeared as well as Beleriand and many precious lands of our years in Endorë disappeared. 

Everyone says "the ice desert", "the grinding ice" ... but they do not get an idea of what the North Sea was then between Araman and Middle Earth because _it was the sea_ , damn it!

What was before us was the sea, icy currents joined to masses of warm water, releasing clouds of vapor that prevented us from seeing beyond a few meters and, in the midst of the waters, mountains of ice floating like threatening giants. Occasionally, the ice would collide and stay still, forming bridges that allowed us to reach narrow passages through which we had to advance in a tight column.

The ice is treacherous. From a distance, it seems firm as a diamond; but under the feet it breaks like glass of bad quality.  
The first time the surface broke under our steps, a hundred of our people disappeared into the icy waters, dragged by the jewels that many refused to leave, by the clothes that absorbed the water too quickly. We watched with bewilderment and horror as the ice closed over them again.

From that moment, a group of explorers always marched on, testing the terrain, looking for the safest areas. I always walked among them: I needed to distract myself, to ignore the emptiness that Maitimo's absence left in my soul. It was horrible to look inside me and only find silence.  
There were also the rumors. Many remembered that they had always seen me in the company of the traitor's firstborn and in a low voice accused me of insisting that we undertake this journey of madness.  
Ektëllo accompanied me often: he was similarly persecuted by rumors, by signs of anger and contempt - as if he had not been abandoned like all of us.

But while we learned to evade areas too thin or small cracks that would expand under our weight, we still did not understand the full power of the Helcaraxë, all the horror that hid.

At first we walk without rest, moved by rage and the desire to reach the other side; but after a while we understood that the trip would take more than we imagined and we decided to camp.  
There was no winter of death in Aman before the Darkening. The seasons were just a game that the Valar designed for us, their favorite toys; but outside of Aman ... the rules of the game changed.

When my father gave the order to resume the march, many did not move. For a moment, those closest to the king believed that it was rebellion, that they had decided to return to Valinor, to change their minds. I remember Angaráto's expression when he shook the shoulder of a she-elf embracing her infant daughter: the horror in his wide eyes when he looked at me.

\- She's rigid - he muttered under his breath.

I touched others from the same group and it was like touching marble - cold, hard ... lifeless.

Ektëllo returned with a healer and the girl touched the kid in her mother’s arms before checking the body of the female.  
\- They are dead - she declared -. The cold ... they could not endure it ...

We learned that we did not know many things in Aman's bliss: we did not know that the darkness was worse than the absence of light, that snow and ice were not amusements created to celebrate a festival, that our _hroar_ were fragile as glass shells ...   
We were unaware that there are many ways to die. 

The children were the most affected by low temperatures. Their delicate bodies tired quicker and then the cold bit their flesh until thicken the blood and cut the breath. 

Sleep became a constant terror: the terror of not waking up. 

We take off our thickest clothes to shelter the little ones and the females. But even so, after each break we were less those who resumed the march. And, even so, we were not the only ones who roamed in the ice hell.   
Among the mountains of ice lived beasts - huge bears that camouflaged themselves in the landscape, creatures that emerged from the icy waters like mountains of flesh and fangs ... and colossal animals that moved among the icebergs, striking them with their tails when we moved on them . 

The first thing we learned was to hunt those beasts: Orokáne and Laurefindë had the idea of creating spears with our daggers, and Ektëllo and some of our craftsmen suggested that the tip of the knives be bent to imitate the harpoons used by the Teleri. 

At first it seemed disgusting to use the skins of these animals to dress us; but our hunters and our seamstresses looked for ways to make them more usable and soon even the delicate fingers of the noblest ladies were hardened by the use of the thick needles they invented with their earrings and pins. Jewels became tools more quickly than if we had forged them again. 

We wander for a long time. Some Unbegotten that marched among us remembered how to use the stars to guide us and the lights of the sky served us as a guide to go North and East, in search of Endorë; but we still had to wait for the good will of the ice mountains to create a step at times. Until Turukáno had the idea that we control the icebergs. 

With harpoons and ropes a group marched ahead, hunting the icebergs to join them as the pieces of a bridge. There was always the risk that a rope would break or that a hook would have been left in a fragile part, and then the bridge would fall apart, remaining adrift with those who occupied it at the time. To avoid such eventuality, we created parties that waited until everyone was safe on ... _ice-land_ before recovering the props and continue to build the next bridge. Even so, sometimes the forecast failed. 

When I heard the crunch of the ice, I thought it was lucky that everyone had crossed the pass and that only Ektëllo, two more elves and I followed behind. Father was going to get rid of a lot of problems if we were the only casualties.   
Then I heard the screams and when I looked up, I saw a female hugging three children, trying to protect them while the piece of ice separated from the iceberg. I recognized the blond curls that the wind whipped. 

Elenwë. Elenwë. 

I threw myself at her with her name stuck in my throat. I heard Ektëllo shouting at me but I was already there, so close. I saw my brother run to the edge of ice ... Behind him, Laurefindë twirled a hook over his head to throw it to the iceberg that was moving away. Elenwë stepped forward and grabbed the hook when it fell on the ice: with her foot covered with bear skin, she nailed it to the surface and several elves pulled the rope to bring the raft closer to them.   
The wind was getting worse and my sister-in-law took the smaller child in her arms and threw him toward the group gathered on the other edge. 

My father had approached and ordered the crowd to disperse, that they could break the surface if they forced it. I kept running, feeling the steps of Ektëllo behind me.   
The piece of ice on which Elenwe and the children were still staggered, and a unanimous cry escaped my lips and my brother's. 

She grabbed the other girl - the one who was not her daughter - and pushed her into the arms of her husband who passed her to Lalwen and returned his gaze to her. Someone shouted that the wind would break the rope and before Laurefindë prepared a second harpoon, Elenwë took Itarildë in her arms, kissed the top of her head and pushed her.   
I jumped into the water. For a few seconds, the cold prevented me from breathing and I forced myself to swim with all my soul. 

At the same time as I, Turukáno had jumped and we both approached where Itarildë struggled to cling to the rope that the wind released from the iceberg. My brother caught his daughter and he shouted something to me; but I was already swimming behind Elenwë, who was watching us on her knees.   
The wind shook the piece of iceberg and I saw her fight to stay on top; but the ice turned like a slab and Elenwë disappeared into the rough waters.

I screamed. 

I watched her golden head emerge in the waves and I went to her as fast as I could; but the more I braced, the farther she seemed to be, the farther I heard her screams ... until I no longer saw her.   
I immersed myself and - in the darkness of northern sea - the golden hair and the light blue dress of Elenwë of Vanyar were almost light calling me.

I barely managed to brush her fingers before an arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me away from her. I emerged unable to breathe, but struggling in the embrace that held me.

\- I had her! - I howled -. I touched her! I could...   
\- She's dead, Findekáno! - Laurefindë roared in my ear -. Elenwë is dead.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Valaduri: servers of the Valar, from the singular Valadur.

I pull round with my ears full of the buzzing of the sea, with the cries of Elenwë tearing my brain and my heart.   
We had lost many - some even my friends back in Tirion-upon-Túna - but it was the first time that the Helcaraxë stole someone close to my heart.   
At that moment, the hours Elenwë and I spent together seemed too close. The smell of her hair, the touch of her warm skin, the music of her voice ... everything seemed too alive, too ... real for her death not to be a lie. **I had loved Elenwë.** Once, in a different world, I had loved that female that slipped from my fingers.

With cloudy eyes I saw my father kneeling next to someone. I saw the feverish movements with which he rubbed the hands and feet of the person lying on the ice, and I was surprised by the vividness of the red that covered my niece's livid skin.

I leapt to my feet, ignoring the voices of the healer who ordered me to remain seated, recover the heat before ... I crawled to my father and saw with horror that it was blood - **his blood** \- what he was rubbing on Itarildë’s skin.

\- Wh-what-have you done? - I demanded, grabbing his wrist with fingers stiff with cold.  
\- Blood is hot - he murmured and cut again the palm of his hand to continue rubbing the wound in the arms of the girl.

Later, with his hands bandaged and wearing only a simple coat, my father came to see me. Itarildë was fine. My brother was depressed, but the ice water had no effect on him. The other two children were also fine, just scared. I was the only patient left to worry about: I had been a long time in the water and had swallowed enough before Laurefindë rescued me. The healers said that I was likely to have a fever for a while and that I should protect myself from the cold after my clothes had been changed. I nodded and when he walked away, I found my voice to ask:  
\- Do you think I could have ...? If I had swum faster, I could have ...  
\- Elenwë had sunk long before you even reached thirty feet from her - declared my father -. You would not have reached her in time even at twice the speed.  
I accepted the scant comfort that his statement offered me.

From that moment I spent less time with my family. I could not bear to see Turukáno's sadness or my sister's efforts to be the princess that Elenwë would have been, or how my father became the father and mother of Itarildë.   
Worse still were the looks of respect that everyone directed at me: I was a fucking hero!   
I had jumped into the sea to save my sister-in-law. I had risked my life for her. Unconsciously, I helped to foster the heroic image that our people formed of me: I threw myself without thinking to explore the terrain, was the first among the hunters, always was in front when it was necessary to protect or rescue one of our own. Before I became aware of my actions, a name spread throughout the column.

I surprised Ektëllo reciting something. For a second I thought he was praying to the Valar - although the followers of Fëanáro were not exactly Valaduri, in the circumstances we experienced the mind of an elf could change. Only when I got close to him did I realize that what he was murmuring were names.

\- Are you choosing a name for your future child? - I raised an eyebrow -. Are things so advanced with that jumping little girl?

He raised his face to look at me and outlined his peculiar crooked smile.

\- You should go thinking about that.  
\- I'm not going to get married - I shrugged as I sat next to him on the boulder. We contemplated the sea in silence: for once, it seemed calm. - Sometimes it even looks beautiful.  
\- It's beautiful ... and terrible. There are beauties that can kill.  
\- And loves that can too -, I said, thinking about the words that someone told me once -. I did not believe you a poet, Ektëllo.  
\- Neither did I believe you a celibate. It was not the fame you had in Tirion.  
\- In Tirion there seemed to be all the time in the world for love and fun. Now there seems to be none.  
\- Reason for more so you do not waste it.  
\- For that, you need to have with whom ...  
\- You can choose -, he smiled mischievously, standing up -. You have all the fans that a prince could wish for.  
\- Sure!  
\- Do you doubt it? Have not you heard the song that the twins made you?  
\- The boy and the girl who were born in the wrong bodies?  
\- Findekáno Astaldo, protector of our people, jewel of the crown of Finwë Nolofinwë, more beautiful than Nessa and more courageous than Tulkas.  
\- I suppose it's a compliment to compare me to the Valië that looks like a Vala - I commented, feeling my stomach stir.

A moment later, I walked away from Ektëllo.

Brave. They believed me brave. They did not understand that all I wanted was to forget, to get away from reality, to ignore the emptiness in my chest and my head, to numb my soul until I was no longer able to remember.

Bent over myself, I cried in silence in the loneliness of the store. 

\- _Mírya?_  
I shuddered when my father's voice claimed me. It had been so long since he called me that!   
I did not turn around so as not to give away my weakness and his arms surrounded me from behind, forcing me to take refuge in his chest.

\- It's okay if you need to cry, my son - he whispered -. You do not have to be strong always: that's not your role.   
\- I am your son, the son of the king.   
\- Kings also cry.  
\- You do not.   
\- My time to cry has not yet arrived; but you ... - He sighed as he pressed his lips to my head -. I know how much you appreciated Elenwë. I know how sorry you have not been able to save her ... to save them all ... 

I pursed my lips. That was the best explanation I could give of my pain.

\- Once, I loved her - I said suddenly, not knowing where the words came from -. I thought she was for me. The Findekáno that I was, the one that loved Elenwë, would have felt the loss of so many of ours; but today ... now ... the only thing there is emptiness. - I buried my face in my father's arm, embarrassed. He did not speak, just hugged me. - I cannot stand to hear theirpraises, to see their expressions of admiration, - I continued, without raising my face. - I don’t do it for bravery ... or for taking care of them. I do it not to think, father; not to think about the blankness that is in me since Maitimo closed the bond. Empty, empty, empty! As much as I look, I do not find anything inside me. Everyone thinks that I am suffering for Elenwë, for their loved ones: the truth is that I am crying for me. How can I be so selfish? I do not want to find him to claim him for betraying us, for having abandoned us: I want to scream at him for taking part of me with him! 

I bit my lip, roaring with impotence. Seriously, how was it possible that I only thought about the desert that was left in my soul with the desertion of Maitimo? 

\- I know -. My father's words caressed my ear again, in an intimate confession. - I know what you feel. But it is not the moment to surrender. You'll find him. You will reclaim him for his betrayal. You will make him pay ... and you will recover your whole heart, _mírya_. But now ... now I need you with me. 

He forced me to turn around and with both hands, he held my face. In the gloom, his blue silver eyes shone like the ice mounts.   
I closed my eyes when his lips pressed mine and for a moment, for a few hours, for a second, his love was all that filled the world, completing my soul again. 

 

Screams woke me up. I sat on the skin that served as a bed and the cold hit my body through the thin silk shirt.   
My clothes were in a corner of tent and for a moment, I refused to abandon the delicious laxity that remained in my limbs ... before I really understood what provoked it.   
The screams repeated closer and closer and I stood up, wrapping myself in the skin to get out.   
Stupor petrified me.   
_Light_. There was light. Silver light bathed the faces and objects.   
Puzzled, I looked around and noticed that many raised their faces to the sky and raised their arms while singing praises. I followed their eyes and there, above us, I saw floating a luminous disc, huge and perfect, of pure silver. 

\- It's ... like Telperion - commented Ektëllo beside me.   
I turned to him and for the first time I saw him smile with real joy: he was too young to be there.  
\- It's a nice change to see your face without being illuminated by a torch - I pointed. He looked at me with a mocking look.  
\- It is a pleasure to see that you have developed such tolerance to the cold, my prince. 

I felt blush coloring my cheeks; but before I could find a plausible answer, Aikanáro came running to us.   
\- The High King orders that we prepare ourselves to leave, cousin - he announced, euphoric -. The new light has allowed us to see Middle Earth at last. We have arrived, Finno! 

A while later, my father ordered the display of the silver and azure banners of our House. While the heralds blew the trumpets we set off: we would enter Endorë as conquerors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I consider it a triumph to have crossed the Helcaraxë: writing this really killed me. And when I think about what is to come ... Oh god!
> 
> Actually, I like to publish the stories once I finish them; but as I usually leave many unfinished - there is a lot sleeping the dream of the blessed in my laptop - I started publishing this to force me to finish it. You know: I hate when I'm following a story and the author is slow to update; so I promised myself that I would not do the same. For that reason, I want to thank the wonderful kudos I receive and the lovely comments of *bluehair* - you are my favorite person - as well as those who do not leave their name, but their opinion. Whatever: all of you are guilty that I do not give up on any of my stories.  
> Everyone: thanks for taking the time to read.
> 
> Mhm ... I think I'm sentimental today.


	21. Chapter 21

Well, **there are** songs about our arrival in Middle-earth. There are ballads remembering how, as our vanguard entered the new lands, _a glow of fire rose in the sky, illuminating our march and awakening the world before us_ ... Eh ... literally, the flowers did not open at the passage of Finwë Nolofinwë; but nature stretched with the arrival of the new light and the colors were brighter, more luxurious. Then we did not know that a new age began: the Ages of the Sun.

No obstacle crossed our path and we advanced in freedom for what we would later call Dor Daedeloth in Sindarin, the "land of the shadow of horror". We only met scattered groups of moriquendi, who babbled some words in our language - which led us to suppose that they had had contact with the people of Fëanáro - and who were shocked to hear that we were asking for the location of the Dark Enemy's fortress. We managed to understand that although they warned us to stay away from the "shadow", they also assured us that the Enemy's beasts had stopped appearing since the "light pierced the veil". This is how we arrived before the high peaks of the fortress of the murderer of Finwë.

In the middle of the living-rock wall a huge iron door rose and in its front, we blew the trumpets, announcing us. Only the echo of the mountains responded to our challenge. After calling twice more, my father ordered us to turn around and go to where it was said that Fëanáro was settled. Several moriquendi had joined us, intrigued and excited to see us arrive at the gates themselves of Iron Hell to challenge the Dark Lord.  
It was before the iron door, while the singing of the silver trumpets filled the air, that for the first time I felt Maitimo’s presence again.

 

The moriquendi were different from us in many ways: lower, with pale skin covered with meandering patterns and hair braided with feathers and fragments of bones. They spoke rapidly in their own language, stuttering when they tried to express themselves in Quenya and resorting to a complicated system of manual symbols when language failed them. From their chatter we managed to understand that a battle had taken place some time ago and that the “warriors from the West” had come to drive the enemy back ... until the demons of fire and shadow emerged from the belly of the mountain.

By the time we arrived at the lake, other tribes had joined us, attracted by curiosity. We began to distinguish those who lived in the forests, never related to the Light of the Trees, from those who were ruled by the King Greymantle: Elu Thingol.  
As soon as they described him, my father and my cousins identified the King Greymantle as the long-lost brother of Olwë Ciriáran, Elwë. Before the Great Journey, Elwë had been a good friend of my grandfather and many of us supposed he would be willing to help us to avenge his death. Time proved that Elwë had long ago forgotten the friendship that bound him to Finwë Nólomë.

The first thing that was evident upon arriving at Lake Mithrim was that our predecessors had left the camp on the northern bank in a hurry, leaving even food in their retreat. On the other side of the body of water we could see the expectant settlement, watching us as if they feared that we would throw ourselves over them to demand payment for our losses ... and no doubt, there were those who were of the opinion that we should punish them, crush them with our numerical superiority because, despite all we left behind, we were still many more. However, my father forced us to calm down: true that the numbers favored us; but not the forces. Our bodies were weakened and fatigue was beginning to take its toll on our spirits. Many at last allowed themselves to mourn their dead and pay them honors.  
Of course, my father was right: we barely occupied the abandoned houses, many gave way to fatigue.

In the semi-built hut we occupied, I lay on a pallet and enjoyed the heat for the first time in too much time. The dream, however, did not come. The twinge that betrayed the return of the bond had been numbed since we were away from Angamando and I was surprised that Maitimo had not called me. He knew with certainty that we were there, that _I was there ..._ and I was surprised that he had not run out to find me. Of course, in all that time, my cousin must have changed a lot: after all, he was the heir of the Noldóran. Maybe he was even ashamed of leaving us ... or he was afraid that I would attack him when I saw him - and I would surely do so, I said to myself in silence.

As soon as the sun was announced in the sky, the alarm ran among our people: a cavalcade was approaching from the camp of the High King.  
I went to my father's side still putting on my shirt. The sunrays pierced the fog that rose from the earth and from among them the riders emerged as ghosts. The first thing that came to mind was the absence of armor; the second, that it was Macalaurë who guided them; the third ... **that my cousin was wearing the crown.**  


Puzzled, I turned to observe my father. Like every time he had an argument with his half-brother in Tirion, my father's face showed no emotion: his beautiful blue eyes fixed on Macalaurë as he descended from his steed.  


\- Grand Prince Nolofinwë ... - began my cousin going forward until being a few steps away from him and then, his voice changed and extending trembling hands, he added: - Be welcome, uncle.  
\- Where is Fëanáro? - demanded my aunt Lalwen, standing next to her brother as if it were the only place that corresponded to her.  


Macalaurë observed her, hesitating.  


\- Dead.  
It was my father who answered, and everyone's eyes went to him.  
\- King Curufinwë is dead. - repeated my father, imperturbable -. In combat, I hope.  
\- Against valaraukos ... demons of fire and shadow.  
\- Ah! So after all, he did throw himself blindly against the Enemy's strength - raised an eyebrow my father -. And Maitimo? Did he also fall in combat? 

I knew that was impossible; but it was also strange that it was Macalaurë who wore the crown. Was it possible that Maitimo had renounced the throne out of shame? Was he ashamed of having betrayed us or of not having been able to save his beloved father? 

\- ... he was arrested and since then we have not received more news. It is impossible to enter Thangorodrim.  


I forced myself to pay attention to what Macalaurë said.  


\- Are you saying that Maitimo is a prisoner of the Enemy? - I demanded, approaching.  
\- For some time now -, my cousin agreed.  
\- And have not you done anything to rescue him?  
The pain flashed in the gray eyes of Macalaurë; but with a soft voice, he repeated:  
\- No, Findekáno; that was my brother's order before he left to meet Moringotto's ambassadors and we cannot risk our people in vain attempts to cross the defenses of Angamando.  
\- You are the king of these people: you can ignore the order of a prisoner. It's your brother who's a prisoner!  
\- And he's probably dead, - my father interjected, grabbing me by the shoulder.  


I turned in front of him, baffled by his tone: I knew of my father's ability to disguise his emotions; but I also knew that Maitimo was the most beloved of his nephews to him. It was not possible for him to speak of his death so calmly. 

\- Is there anything else you want to inform us ... High King? - inquired at that moment my father. Macalaurë denied slowly.  
\- You can stay in this camp. I will wait until you have settled and rested so that we can discuss other subjects. - My cousin spoke calmly. - We are building a fortress in the sources of the river and we have established good relations with the inhabitants of the region. If you need help with the language...  
\- I thought you said we would discuss other subjects later.  


High King Canafinwë was disconcerted, observing his uncle. Almost like a teenager, he nodded and turned to return with his escort. Then he saw a face among those who were grouped behind us.  


\- Ektëllo! - He called him, going to the boy. - You're ok! Your father has been very worried, thinking...  
\- Excuse me, sir - Ektëllo interrupted him abruptly - but I do not remember my father accompanying the traitors.  
\- How do you say? - Macalaurë blinked.  
\- My father is here, with me. You just talked to him. - The look of Macalaurë turned towards the second son of Finwë -. That's right, sir - continued Ektëllo, firmly -; the only father I have is my lord, Finwë Nolofinwë.  
A cry of assent rose from all the throats at the same time. Macalaurë stepped back instinctively, as his entourage advanced to surround him - they probably thought we would attack him - but we just cheered on our king, repeating his name until the echo of our voices set our old friends on the other side of the lake. 

_Hail, Finwë Nolofinwë, High King of the Noldor._


	22. Chapter 22

I followed my father when he advanced among his subjects, away from the meeting point. Ektëllo ran to my side and I sensed that Lalwen stopped short in order not to follow us.

My father did not enter the dwelling we chose. With a safe walk, he went to the nearby forest and disappeared among the trees.

\- Findekáno! - My friend called me. - Is your father offended? I was too rough with Macalaurë? Do you think he's going to negotiate with them?  
\- I don’t know -. I shrugged. - But don’t worry: I think he is just impacted by ... the news. I’ll tell you later.

I ventured into the forest, looking for my father. I found him standing next to a tree, with his back to me - to the world. From there, the peaks of Thangorodrim could be seen and for a second, I thought we had passed by Maitimo and I wondered if he would know of our arrival, if our Enemy had told him.

\- Father -, I called and as he didn’t turn around, I surrounded him to look at him face to face.

His blue eyes glowed and his lips tightened in a line of bitterness.

\- You knew -, I understood at that moment -. All the while we promised to take revenge on those who left us, while we went on hoping to demand a repair from Fëanáro ... you knew he was dead. And you didn’t say it. Why?  
\- One day you will learn that the only important thing is what suits your people, whether it is what you want or not, - he explained slowly. - You will learn that sometimes it is necessary to resort to love and forgiveness ... and others, it takes anger and hatred to govern.  
\- But you ... you didn’t want him to die.  
\- What I want, my son, does not matter at all -, he smiled in a way that cooled my heart: a smile without light, without heat. - It has never had it. Instead -, at last he looked down to observe me and the tenderness returned to his gaze for once -, you do not need to be strong for me anymore. Now is the time for you to be the prince that everyone loves, the one that filled us with joy.  
\- I don’t understand. You're going to claim the crown, right? - I frowned. - You know we won’t follow Macalaurë. Not any of the children of ... Fëanáro.  
\- None of the remaining children - corrected my father -. I know. I think that they are not making it easy for Macalaurë on the other side of the lake either. While there is the possibility that Maitimo is alive, his claim to the throne will not be considered legitimate and opposing him would only be to oppose the shadow of a king: usurper against usurper.  
\- We are more than the followers of Fëanáro and we support you as High King. You saw it right now.  
\- I saw a resentful boy use me to vent his contempt and hatred. I saw a crowd inflamed by years of anger without anyone to release it. Fëanáro is dead: to whom will they blame all their losses? The trembling child who came to welcome me? Macalaurë knew what he was doing when he came and did not send one of his brothers.

I kept silent at his ironic expression. He was right: if instead of the pale, desperate face of Macalaurë, we had faced the arrogance and disdain of Tyelkormo or Atarinkë, the interview would have ended very soon.

Suddenly, I understood something.

\- If Maitimo were the one wearing the crown, would you claim it?

My father looked at me with a raised eyebrow.  
\- If Maitimo were the one who would give me the crown, with all certainty it would be proof that I am the only High King of the Noldor. But Maitimo is a prisoner in Angamando, - he sighed, looking back at the lofty peaks. - Probably dead. It's not worth talking about that. Macalaurë will be king meanwhile.

I bit my lower lip, feeling again the slight sting in my soul, the proof that my cousin was alive.

 

Days, weeks ... months passed.  
After Macalaurë, Carnistir was the next to come to our shore of the lake, carrying horses and carts laden with provisions and weapons suitable for the new lands. Always the most practical of the Fëanárion, he met with my father and my cousins to explain where to find the best farmland, the freshest water, the best clay to build, the most abundant hunting. He also explained part of the regional policy, highlighting that it was impossible to enter the domain of Elu Thingol because they were protected by the magic of his Maiarin wife.  
Carnistir’s presence became quite frequent. Sometimes accompanied by twins and others alone or with little escort, my cousin was not afraid to move among our people, offering help and advice, acting as a translator or simply informing my father of everything he knew about Moringotto's forces. For the first time we heard from a witness the description of a valarauko, or the fierceness of the orcs ... or about the dark sorcery of Sauron, the lieutenant of the Dark Vala. It was said that Sauron had ruled Angamando during the absence of his Master, sowing terror and death in the elven clans for many years.

One afternoon, after my father spent hours meeting with Carnistir, talking about Angamando's defenses or the strategic position of the fortress that was built beyond our camps, I followed him when he retired. The twins had come with him; but they had preferred to stay with Irissë and the hunting groups.

\- Carnistir! - I called him before he came along with his brothers -. Tell me the truth: do you think he’s alive?  
His dark eyes stared at me and I thought they could pierce my soul and find the tiny light that ignited in it.  
\- You are the best person to answer that question, cousin Findekáno - he said after a few minutes.  
\- But you'd go find him if there was any hope, right?  
This time, my cousin watched me closer, tracing my features over and over again.  
\- No army can pass the defenses of Angamando - he declared calmly and turned around to get away from me.  
No army. All right. Nor could an army have crossed the Helcaraxë. 

When I turned on myself, I found Ektëllo standing there. His gaze went beyond me, following the children of Fëanáro as they walked away. I thought maybe he wanted to go back to his family, maybe he had changed his mind and was longing to see his father again. I went to him. - You're going to look for him, - he said, without any emotion in his tone.  
\- I have no idea what you're talking about. - I shrugged and walked past him in the direction of my lodging. 

Hours passed before I decided to pack. In a hurry, I prepared the travel bag, filled my quiver, adjusted the knife to the thigh and checked that the sword came out of the scabbard easily. I had to leave before my father called me for dinner or someone started looking for me for any reason.  
I stopped when I turned around, with my hand on the arch. Ektëllo was standing in the doorway, blocking my way. 

\- I never wanted to give credit to the rumors - he said in a low voice, entering -. Among the apprentices it was commented that the bond that united the first-born of both Houses was much more than friendship. But I did not believe it. Nelyafinwë ... Prince Nelyafinwë did seem to feel for you something close to devotion; however, you did not behave like a lover. Then, in the Helcaraxë, his name did not leave your lips once and I believed ... I dared to hope that you...  
\- Ektëllo, it's not ... it's not like that. I don’t ... I don’t love him that way.  
He looked at me without moving, stopped halfway through the room.  
\- You're going to go find him. - It was not worth denying, so I just nodded -. Then, it does not matter if you love him: whether you return with him ... or if you do not return, you are lost to me.  
\- That's silly. You don’t know what you are saying. When I return, we can talk about this calmly and I promise that it's not like...  
\- Do you plan to leave without food? Without water? You do not know how long it will take you to find it. Have this. I picked this up for you in the afternoon. I know that the lembas are delivered by our ladies; but ... let it be known that Lady Lalwen made them and gave them to me. And ... I think you should take this: the moriquendi assure that the vapors that spring from the earth and the mists that cover it even during the day are harmful both to breathe them and because they produce sadness and dejection. 

My gaze stopped on the harp in his hand - one of those small harps that bards usually use everywhere: Artanis had given it to me years ago. I tried to refute the suggestion; but immediately I thought that I could take the harp to the exit of the settlement and then leave it hidden until my return. It was not worth discussing more, wasting valuable time. I nodded and took the instrument along with the bag of groceries.  
Ektëllo moved away so I could go to the door; but I slowed down on the threshold and turned back to his side. Grabbing him by the face, I kissed him hard. Ektëllo clung to me as if he breathed life from my mouth and for a second, I thought I was an idiot, that Maitimo was probably beyond salvation, that my father did not really need anyone to give him the crown, that it wasn’t worth pursuing a ghost when Ektëllo was there - in my arms, warm and longing - and I turned away from him before it was too late.  
\- Do not tell my father until it has been a while - I pleaded. He nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, we have a harp.


End file.
